China Doll v 2
by la Domkova
Summary: No one can stop the Dark Lord and the woman who helped him to regain his full power, is now his china doll. AU
1. The key in the Soul

**.: I :.**

**_"The key in the soul"_**

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

**W**ith a loud BANG, the Knight Bus appeared on the pavement and a boy wearing a violet uniform opened the door, claiming pompously,

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand--"

"Yes, we know, we know, it's the same old story every time." Snorted a boy with freckles and red hair, while he helped his twin hoist a trunk aboard.

Their mother threw an apprehensive glance to the bus and then turned her eyes on the girl beside her. The mother arranged a lock escaping from the girls hair clip and embraced her.

"Do you really want to go? What if there is an attack?" 'The mother' asked anxiously.

"Mum!" the girl exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Dad and you met the McKnives last week and if I remember well Professor Moody was with you. Don't worry, nothing will happen. I'll send you an owl as soon as I arrive."

The girl gave one last embrace to her parents and brothers and as she got on the bus, a calm and hopeful smile brightened her face. Her family stood before the gate, watching the Knight Bus amble down the road and vanish with a crack.

**V**irginia Molly Weasley never arrived at her destination.

**T**here was something on her face, damp and tepid, covering her eyes. Virginia moved to take it off but she found that she couldn't raise her arm. She felt weak and hot, as if she had a high fever and there was a metallic taste on her dry lips. A jolt of pain struck her body, throbbing from her temples down to her toes. She heard nothing but her own difficult, ragged breathing and a bird singing who knows where. She instinctively turned her head towards the singing and the cloth obstructing her view slipped from her eyes. A green bird was perched in a cage. The summer twilight's reddish light entered from a French window and illuminated the room she was in. Beyond the baluster she glimpsed soft hills and a faraway village surrounded by woods and pastures.

Unable to do anything else, the young witch observed the unknown bedroom. There were some landscape paintings decorating the walls and the furniture was sober yet elegant. From the vases of roses and digitalis to the porcelain dolls atop the dresser, everything portrayed a certain amount of austere and hidden wealth. Virginia turned to look at the bed's canopy. She frowned and tried to remember what exactly had happened to make her end up here.

_.: flashback :._

_The Knight Bus had left Liverpool and Virginia had just given up on her intention to read. She now watched three laughing children, amusedly, as they were tossed and their Gobstones rolled onto the floor. An old witch pressed a hand against her mouth, green with nausea, and her Indian blackbird repeated the words "intelligent" and "unnameable", beating its wings nervously. Three Aurors on duty had to grip onto the back of three seats that were in front of them so they could prevent themselves from falling._

_The knight buses brakes screeched suddenly and Virginia fell of her seat, hitting her head against the window with a resounding crack. She was momentarily blinded by pain but was vaguely aware of people around her yelling out what seemed to be dark spells. When Virginia finally regained her senses she looked on in horror at the group of Death Eaters attacking people in the bus. Virginia reached for her wand but before she could utter a spell, somebody grabbed her arm and dragged her up the steps of the Knight Bus. _

"_Don't be stupid, girl, run away." A voice scorned._

"_This isn't the first time that I've face those filthy bastards!" She replied annoyed. The Auror looked irritated at her and pushed her up the staircase._

"_This isn't a game, girl, and they aren't your schoolmates you curse in the hallways."_

"_But--"_

"_No 'buts', go upstairs and go away with that--"_

_A flash of red light hit the Auror, throwing him away from her. Virginia held her wand and with an Impedimenta curse she was able to stop the Death Eater who was reaching her. She ran up the stairs as quickly as she could, throwing curses behind her every two or three steps._

"_What are you waiting for? Get her!"_

_Some one screamed behind her but Virginia tried to ignore the battle's noises, the Apparitions' CRACK behind her. Her only thought was to reach the portkey and get away. A boy not much older than her took her hands and dragged her toward a group of people. Virginia fell, unable to move her legs, the boy cast a spell but some purplish flames hit him in the chest while the Death Eaters arrived from below. The children cried and screamed in terror; the men left the portkey and threw themselves against the assailants. Virginia dragged herself toward the fugitives, begging every deity she knew to reach them in time._

"STUPEFY!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

_And the last things she saw were flashes of green and red light._

_.: End flashback :._

**W**hat happened after she had lost consciousness? How had she arrived in this room? It was neither a hospital nor a dungeon…had some one, maybe, found her and brought her here? As Virginia pondered these questions, the last remnants of light slowly disappeared from her room and stars began to appear in the sky. The young witch closed her eyes and let the crickets chirping songs cradle her as her mother might have if she'd been with her.

The door opened and was slowly closed again, as if the intruder didn't want to be a disturbance. Virginia turned her head in the direction of the door with wide open eyes but let out a sigh of relief when she saw who had entered- it was a little girl, no older than twelve. She was petite and pale with a long braid of brown hair that fell onto her back from beneath a bonnet. She wore a bottle green dress and held up some clean laundry.

"Well awakened, Miss." The girl said in a small voice, placing the laundry on the easy chair and opening a dresser drawer.

The witch watched her for a few seconds and then asked,

"Where am I? What... what happened?"

"You are at the Elysian Fields and you have been asleep for three days. The Master will be happy to know that you have recovered."

"How did I get here?"

The girl froze and then she took out some towels from another drawer.

"I will prepare you a bath." she announced, changing topic. "It will make you feel better."

She entered a nearby room and after awhile Virginia could hear the sound of running water. Virginia closed again her eyes again, more confused than before. The migraine hadn't gone away and neither had it reduced and it made her unable to think, to find answers that perhaps were simpler than what she thought. She reopened her eyes only when the girl asked her if she needed help to get up. The witch nodded and she put an arm around the other's neck-the girl almost fell when Virginia leaned completely on her.

"Shouldn't you call somebody to help you?" Virginia asked worried she might crush the girl.

"No Miss, I don't want them to come." The girl said as she panted under Virginia's weight.

"They who?" Virginia asked curiously.

Virginia felt the girl tremble slightly under her weight but the girl tightened her lips and opened the bathroom door.

"Which essence do you prefer? Violet, acacia or vanilla?"

"Er... violet, thank you. What is your name?"

"Meg, Meg Flandrers. You are Miss Virginia Weasley, I know your name." Meg replied, pouring the content of a cruet into the tub.

The bathroom was bigger than that of the Burrow, tiled with sea themed mosaics. Virginia glanced at the mirror, glimpsing only her own image blurred by the steam. She let Meg undress her. Virginia noted that she still had the clothes on she wore the day of the ambush. They were still dirty with blood and mud Virginia noted as Meg helped her enter the water. The heat had a magnificent effect on her wounded body, softly easing the pain. Then she plunged, entering a hushed world. When she resurfaced, the girl had disappeared but there was a clean nightgown on the cabinet.

"If you need help, ring the bell. I am going to make your dinner." Said Meg from the nearby room.

The young witch leaned her head on the tub's edge, sighing as her muscles relaxed. At this point it was safe to rule out that she has been captured, she knew quite well how the Death Eaters treated their prisoners and surely a nice bed, a warm bath and a decent dinner wasn't included in the package. Nonetheless, it was strange that Meg had changed the topic when Virginia had asked her about her arrival at the Elysian Fields and the building's other occupant. However, it was even stranger that a girl of that age -few years older than a mere child- was a maid. She got out of the tub with some difficulty and wrapped herself in a bathrobe. Wiping away the fog on the mirror, Virginia studied herself critically. Her reflection looked none the worse for wear: Her face and arms were pale and sporting inflates and bruises, there was an unhealed cut across her upper lip with a burn on her cheekbone. Virginia tiredly ran a hand through her damp hair and dressed, surprised that the underwear was her size. There was a knock on the door.

"Er… come in." Virginia called apprehensively.

It was bit awkward- in her home no one but Percy used to knock, even if everybody complained about it. Meg appeared at the bathroom's door and smiled at her.

"Your dinner is served, Miss."

Virginia smiled back and finished buttoning up her nightgown. Her dinner was on a round table before a window. It consisted of carafe, tureen, roast chicken with potatoes and some ice cream. Meg made her sit down and poured her some broth. As she ate, Virginia observed the trees which seemed inky black in the night and noticed the faraway village shining brightly as if wanting to compete with the stars. A light breeze entered from the open window tickling Virginia's cheeks and making the curtains billow as if they were the sails of a galley.

"Meg, where's the fireplace? I'd like to tell my parents I am well." Virginia said off-handedly.

Meg looked at her with wide eyes, as pale as a ghost; she then smiled nervously and began to clear the table.

"I am sorry, but I can give you neither Floo Powder nor your wand." Meg said with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Why? After all I am not--" Virginia began but Meg cut her off.

"I have received precise orders from the Master, Miss. Maybe, when he will be back..."

Meg ended, placing the dirty dishes on the tray. Virginia felt too tired to insist and after have contemplated the rising of the moon; she went to sleep.

**T**he days went by and Virginia was neither able to have a pinch of Floo Powder nor did the mysterious master make an appearance. As if it wasn't enough, she wasn't even allowed to leave her bedroom. She'd walk from the balcony to the antechamber and back, every time she would ask Meg for explanations and every time the girl would change the topic or would not reply. Then, on an afternoon in early August, Meg entered the bedroom and announced to Virginia with a bit of anxiety that the master had arrived and he wanted Virginia to have dinner with him. She helped the young witch to get ready, choosing a dress of blue linen and spurring her on to hurry. She was putting a clip in the older girl's hair when somebody knocked.

"One second, she's almost ready." Meg called.

In reply, the door opened wide violently and a woman entered the room. She had black hair, heavy lidded eyes and a pale, thin face. A cloak that was such a dark shade of violet it could've been mistaken for black draped her shoulders with a pin shaped like the Dark Mark attached on her breast. Bellatrix Lestrange glanced arrogantly with light disgust at Meg, barely twisting her thin lips.

"Are you stupider than I think? I told you that she had to be in the dinning room at half past seven, it is seven-thirty-three." Bellatrix Lestrange snarled.

"Ma-Madam, I…" Meg stuttered.

"_Crucio_!" the Death Eater hissed, watching with sadist pleasure as the girl writhed and screamed on the floor.

Then she turned to look at Virginia who was shocked by the Death Eater's sudden arrival. The woman grabbed her chin and stooped down on her, murmuring with an affected and sugary voice.

"I'm happy to meet you again Miss Weasley. We met last year at the Ministry but back then we hadn't had the chance to introduce ourselves properly. I am Bellatrix Asphodelia Lestrange, nice to meet you." Before Virginia could react, the Death Eater grabbed her wrist and unceremoniously carried her out of the room. Bellatrix lingered for an instance to look at Meg still under the curse's effect and unwillingly she pronounced the counter spell. "Be thankful that my Lord wants you alive, Muggle, or I would have already killed you." Snarled Bellatrix.

Virginia was so shocked that she wasn't able to walk and Bellatrix pushed her brutally. Bellatrix dragged Virginia through the hallway and the staircases as if she was an object of no value. The young witch couldn't understand what was happening; the sight of this Death Eater had been like a bucket of frozen water. The Dark Lord wasn't known to be an irreproachable guest; the rare times a prisoner's corpse was found, the mediwizards had to use complex spells to individualize the identity. Then why had she been treated like an average guest in a normal house? Why had they put her in a ladylike bedroom instead of a dark, damp cell with bones scattered on the floor? Why had they served her better meals than those of Hogwarts instead of a piece of dry and mouldy bread? Nobody had touched her, neither used violence nor hexed her; plus Meg –who wouldn't hurt a fly- had been the only other human being she had seen in those days. Bellatrix pushed her on the floor and then bowed.

"Bella, Bella, you may have spent fourteen years in Azkaban but it is not a good excuse to forget your etiquette. Remember to be kind with our guest." hissed a hoarse and asthmatic voice with an emphasis that Virginia didn't like. "Miss Weasley, I hope you will forgive me to have not been a polite guest but your friends from the Order of the Phoenix have prevented me from fulfilling my duty."

Standing before her, with a snake coiled around his body, was Lord Voldemort. Virginia felt her stomach writhe. She knew what the Dark Lord's appearance was -Harry had described him a couple of times; but what she had imagined was ten times better than reality. He was very thin and tall, like Bill but ghostlier, the skin had a clammy look and a greenish paleness, and two red reptile-like eyes glanced at her with a mix of amusement, mockery and something else she didn't want to catalogue. There were two tiny holes instead of a nose and a lipless mouth completed this creepy sight. Virginia felt the impulse to vomit there and then. Around him there were about twenty Death Eaters. A dozen of them had dark red cloaks, the others wore their cloaks like Bellatrix Lestrange did -it was a detail without importance. However, Virginia remembered that the Dark Lord's followers used to wear black (at least in the battles). If they wore shocking pink or orange robes during other occasions, Virginia did not know.

"Well, have you liked your days at the Elysian Fields?" Lord Voldemort asked (though it sounded more like a hiss).

"I have always thought that if you lived in a house every thing would have been black. I'm surprised to see that your hideout is so… colourful." Virginia snorted to hide her fear and looked around referring to the room's décor. Red velvet covered all four walls of the dining room, which was illuminated by a motley Murano chandelier. Beyond the Dark Lords shoulders she glimpsed a large and elegant rosewood sideboard on which a show of fine porcelain dishes and silverware were placed. The floral centrepiece had a vital and cheerful appearance, struggling so much with the perverse and wicked nature of its landlord.

"Tsk, some one has the gut to challenge me in my home. I am sorry for not being so obvious… they call you Ginny, don't they? What a vulgar and childish nickname. I will call you by your first name; it is Virginia, isn't it?"

The young witch froze at those words-the same words five years before she had seen written down on a page in the elegant and spidery handwriting of Tom Riddle. The dark wizard caressed the snake with his long bony fingers. Then he beckoned a Death Eater to step forward, smiling wickedly and with triumphant.

"Rabastan, go to the village's undertaker tomorrow and buy the most beautiful coffin he has, make an engraving onto the headstone, _Virginia Molly Weasley: unworthy whore and useless brat_ or something like that and then send everything to her family."

"It will be done, my Lord."

"And don't forget to attach our most sincere condolences. Unlike those ruffians, we cannot allow ourselves to ignore formalities." he said with mocking amusement. "Don't make that face Virginia. I don't deny that perhaps you won't die; I just don't like to feed your parents' stupid hopes. Well, let's sit -we need a lot of energy for what we have to do."

Two Death Eaters grabbed her arms and raised her, they then push her onto a chair and sat down on her either side. The others also took their place at the table and when the goblets magically filled with wine, Lord Voldemort raised his. His minions imitated him.

"My Death Eaters, I have reunited you to celebrate an event that will assure our victory. A toast to my cousin Bianca, whose knowledge of ancient magic has allowed us to develop and define our plan." A woman replied with an angelic smile, barely stooped her head. "A toast for all those loyal Death Eaters who should have been here with us and had devoted their whole existence to our cause." There was a brief silence and then the Dark Wizard turned his eyes and goblet to the prisoner. "Finally, a toast to Miss Weasley." The Dark Lord smirked at her. "Who although is a stupid Gryffindor and a blood traitor, will this evening give proof of her utility."

The Death Eaters raised their goblets cheering and Virginia turned pale as a spell forced her to toast with them. Small sweat drops had pearled her forehead and upper lip.

**A**fter dinner they moved, laughing, into a hall and it began. A man in his mid-forties had called the show: three men and a woman –most likely Muggles- had been brought into the centre of the hall and subjected to different curses. Under the effect of the Imperius Curse, they had performed complex and dangerous circus exercises. Then two prisoners begun to fight, biting and tearing each others flesh as if they were beasts, while the third violently copulated with the woman; a Death Eater described what they were doing with the same coldness of a scientific journalist. Bellatrix and another Death Eater laughed madly, shaking their wands and spurring their own champions like Roman matrons at the gladiatorial games. Virginia tried not to watch but the spell was still in effect and all she was able to do was lower her eyes. She felt nausea rise in her throat, blocking her breath. She wanted to go into the bathroom and vomit her dinner, wanted to run away and go back home, wanted to be held in the warm and reassuring embrace of her father, wanted to close her eyes and wake up in her bedroom among her mother's yells and the noise of the ghoul in the attic, she wanted to have her usual breakfast with lots of sausages and scrambled eggs and then degnome the garden but most all, she wanted this to be only a dream, a bad dream that fades away with the morning light.

The woman sitting near Lord Voldemort took her wand out, broke all the spells and answered the wild look of Bellatrix with an angelic smile and a sugary, polite voice.

"I would beg you to not mumble, Lady Lestrange. Or do you prefer that we wait the required twenty-one years for the next conjunction?"

"Surely no, Donna Bianca. Only it is a shame that the show should end so brusquely."

"You will dispose of them once we'll have ended what we have to do. And we have to hurry, the moon is rising." Said the Dark Lord, wanting to avoid a quarrel between the two ladies.

He gave a signal for everyone to go into the garden and once more, Virginia was grabbed roughly and carried outside. She was brought through arcs of wild roses and box-trees pruned like statues, through paths of porphyry tiles and fountains. They reached the peak of a low hillock where a magical circle had been traced with a pole in the middle. When Donna Bianca gave the signal, the girl was undressed and tied. The witch drew near her, a bowl filled with a dense and dark liquid and a brush were in her hands, and she caressed the girl's cheek.

"You don't have to be afraid. At least now."

The woman dipped the brush and traced runes and symbols on her skin. The movements were light and delicate, like the flight of a butterfly, yet sure and firm. Virginia trembled at this touch and the smile of the woman (which had lost its heavenliness to become that of a seductive demon).

"What… what will you do to me?" Virginia whispered fearfully, recovering the ability of speech.

The dark witch stared at her with her brown eyes and her expression mellowed.

"My dear, it is my cousin's duty to inform you about that. It won't be a pleasant experience -at least from your point of view- but you won't die. However even I don't know if death will be a better experience than this." She slipped a hand onto Virginia's stomach, tilling to sink between the folds of her sex. "You are still a virgin, I couldn't hope for any better."

Bianca grazed Virginia's lips voluptuously with her own and then she reached the other Death Eaters at the borders of the circle. Virginia saw them grasp their wands and bringing aggression onto her, she shouted.

"What do you want from me? What do I have that is so important for you!"

"What do you have? What do you have?" hissed Voldemort, approaching her. "Virginia, is it possible that in five long years you did not notice what you guarded? Is it possible that you have forgotten your first year at Hogwarts?"

"The diary doesn't exist anymore! Harry destroyed it!" Virginia shouted determinedly.

"I'm not interested in the diary. Tell me, Virginia," he breathed in her ear. "Haven't you ever sensed him? Haven't you ever sensed his presence in your thoughts? Haven't you ever sensed his… my voice echo in your dreams?"

Virginia, her face paler than before, tightened her lips and closed her eyes. Sometimes she had felt as if there was somebody in her head, as if a hand drew away the veils of her thoughts. The psychiatric therapist had told her that it was a mere consequence of the Chamber of Secret's accident. The only thing she could do was ignore the presence of Tom Riddle in her subconscious and learn to cohabit with it.

"Aha, you are remembering. My memory had swallowed your vital energy and had fed on your soul, corroding it from the inside. When the diary was destroyed, your energy went back into your body and with it went also a part of me which was inside it. When the diary was created, I poured part of my power and soul into the diary. You will agree that I have every right to take back what is mine." he stood back, getting out of the circle. "A wise man once said that the man fears what he ignores. You have to know that we'll extract from your soul what belongs to me, then it'll be purified and finally I'll reabsorb it. You may bring our friend." This last bit was not directed at Virginia and her unspoken question as to who it was directed to, was answered soon enough.

**A** figure wrapped in a cloak drew near while some wizards raised their wands in a defensive gesture. Virginia felt an intense cold pierce her body as a new wave of nausea rose. The figure was a dementor. It drew near her and when it was a footstep away from her, it lowered its hood. She closed her eyes trying to think about the happy moments she had lived. She thought about her childhood games, her seventh birthday, the time Bill, Charlie and Percy gave her a new doll. She even thought all the way to the first time she had met Harry and the day she had received her letter and then to the time the Sorting Hat sorted her into Gryffindor. But inevitably, her thoughts went to the Chamber of Secrets.

"Now!" Bianca commanded.

The dementor stooped on her, aspirating the air. Then it kissed her, sucking her soul. Virginia tried to oppose but she felt weaker and weaker as the seconds past. The most horrendous memories of her life filled her mind. She felt as if she was drowning in a frozen pond, as if her lungs were unable to take in oxygen. It was as if a hook was anchored to her heart and it was being extracted through her mouth. Then…there was nothing.

As soon as the creature loosened its grasp on the young witch, seven Death Eaters tuned a litany with hoarse voices. An inhuman cry rose from the dementor as if a fire was burning inside it. The dementor's body was torn by rays of light and nothing stayed of the creature but a heap of rotten leaves and a cloud of sparkling dust. Bianca threw a glance to the Death Eaters and exclaimed.

"What are you waiting for to recite the purification charm?"

The seven Death Eaters gave the place to their fellows, who tuned another litany. The dust gathered in a sphere and the grains of dust whirled furiously forming a sphere. Lord Voldemort drew near the woman, both looked at the sphere.

"How much time will we need to finish the process?" He asked.

She tightened her lips and ran a hand through her hair.

"I don't know, a couple of days or perhaps more. You have to consider that five years have past since then, Thomas."

"I know it and you still forget that I don't want to be called that way." Lord Voldemort replied his eyes fixed on the sphere.

The witch snorted and watched as the wind swept away the dead leaves.

The Death Eaters succeeded in the spell's performance for three days and in the fourth night, a small yellowish core could be distinguished in the sphere's centre. With a neat swish, Bianca separated the two parts. She directed the core toward Lord Voldemort -who swallowed it- while the other part was put in a dark glass vial.

A sharp yellowish light wrapped the Dark Lord, who started to scream and writhe on the meadows dirt clad ground. It was as if his body could hardly retain the burning light. The followers surrounded their Lord worriedly. Bellatrix threw fiery glances to her rival -the only one to be calm. The light grew weak, showing the cloak covering the wizard's body. Breathing with difficulty, Voldemort sat on his thighs. Without raising his head, he watched his hands. Then, still weak, he got up and two Death Eaters helped him to stand up.

"Are you… are you well my Lord?"

Bellatrix whispered slightly worried. The Dark Lord curved his lips in a tired but triumphant smile.

"Yes, Bella, just a bit tired."

He replied with a different voice. It was not thin and asthmatic but virile and deep -soft like a pillow suffocating a prince in a tower. Bianca drew near him and handed him a silvery mirror. He accepted and examined his face. It was not usual his face. Yes it was pale and gaunt but he had the healthy appearance of one who was recovering from some illness. He smiled and the reflection of his youth smiled back -not a kind of man-snake but a handsome man in his middle twenties.

"I suppose that you have foreseen this too, dear cousin."

"To be honest, no." the witch answered, putting the mirror among the folds of her cloak. "But it is a more than welcome collateral effect, don't you agree? By the way, I'll try to find an explanation."

"My Lord, what do we do with the girl?" Asked a Death Eater, stepping forward.

The Dark Lord looked at Virginia, still tied up. Her cornelian-like eyes were half open without life and light and her breath was as light as a bird's. Her complexion was so pale that even the freckles on her face seemed faded. She looked like a doll of fine china forgotten by a moody child. He liked the thought.

"Bring her back to her room, she'll be my china doll."


	2. The Master and the dolls

**.: II :. **

**"The Master and the Dolls" **

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

**T**he air always was heavy in old Malfoy Mansion, essences so heavy they gave one a headache, as if in the years -centuries- passed since its construction, nobody had cared to open the windows of the enormous rooms and let the breeze sweep away the musty smell. Portraits of ancient matrons and cruel masters whispered in their frames made of abstruse golden and silvery curls, encrusted with cold-shinning jewels, and tapestries, woven by virginal hands, hung on the walls, showing an ancestor cutting for the umpteenth time the head of a dragon or a Muggle with his wand or sword. Furniture of rare wood coming from the forests of Africa or the gardens of an Eastern king inlaid with rarer essences and mother-of-pearl showed off, like in an antique shop. Heavy bronze chandeliers, like tangles of vines and serpents, hung from the high, frescoed vaults.

Bellatrix paid no attention to her younger sister's mansion's furnishing. It wasn't to her liking: it made her think about a villa described in a Muggle novel, written by a poet friend of a cruel emperor, who ordered his killing. Bellatrix went through an inner courtyard, where a fountain gurgled inviting to find relief from the summer heat. Where the sun was streaming down in all its glory. Bellatrix paused. Not very long ago she thought she would never see the sun again. She let the warm rays caress her for a moment and the she opened wide a door and entered in the Sancta Sanctorum of Narcissa Berenice Malfoy.

Narcissa turned, angry at whoever dared to distract her from her embroideries, but she smiled at her older sister. "Sister, I'm happy to see you outside your chambers."

"It isn't convenient come outside often, sister, when a reward hangs on your head." She replied a bit sour, but she smiled back to Narcissa.

They sat on the sofa, a tray with teapot, cups and sugar bowl appeared on the low table. Bellatrix watched her sister pouring tea and it was like watching their late mother repeat those same gestures: the older woman felt a pang of jealousy, jealousy for what the fate had poured on Narcissa's head and had denied to her. At thirty-four, Narcissa still looked like a young girl: her hair styled in the last fashion, her robed made by personal tailors, a wrinkleless face and covered by a veil of rice powder, to hide the few freckles and to make her skin even more milky. Hers was a pristine beauty barely damaged by a slight malaise.

"Are you still feeling unwell?" asked Bellatrix, her low voice and slightly apprehensive of the perfect older sister.

The other woman tightened her lips, turning her grey eyes, which were more like a December sky than her husband and son's silver, beyond the window.

"Don't worry, I will call the midwife this afternoon." she replied absentmindedly; then, realizing what she had just said, Narcissa brought a hand to her mouth, staring at her sister's angry face. "I'm sorry, I know that… but you have to understand, I don't want to create a scandal, and it would be easier if Lucius wasn't at Azkaban."

"You are your usual stupid self, Narcissa. Do you know how many women desire a child and can't be mothers?" Bellatrix replied jealously. Standing up she went near a window. She then snorted mockingly and turned with a mean smile on her lips. "If you wanted to avoid a scandal, you should had think about it before you bed another man."

"Are you perhaps forgetting that not every woman has a faithful and devoted husband, ready to follow his wife even to Azkaban?"

Now it was Narcissa to be jealous: jealous of Lucius's numerous lovers, jealous of Bellatrix's only fortune. She stared at her sister for several long and silent moments; she then approached her and leaned her forehead on Bellatrix's back, tightening her robe.

"When will Lucius come back home?" she asked with a thin voice. "A year has passed and he has broken some Death Eaters out of Askaban, but not Lucius."

"I don't know. Just think about Draco's initiation." Bellatrix replied after an along silence.

Bellatrix knew that, Lucius was out of favour with the Dark Lord, but she kept such thoughts for herself. Who knew why the Dark Lord did what he did? Not her, that's sure. Someone knocked, Narcissa granted permission and Draco entered: he greeted his mother, imitating his father's cold demeanour but unable to conceal his affection.

At once the mother grabbed his hand and made sit the boy at her side, chirruping like a girl. "Tell me, Cabbie, did you had a nice time at the Parkinsons'? Has Pansy become prettier since last time I met her?"

"Mother, please, don't call me that!" he answered, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I had a nice time, and no, Pansy hasn't changed."

"My little cabbage is becoming big boy!" said Narcissa, pinching his cheeks. "He's becoming more handsome and fascinating."

Draco rolled his eyes: he really cared for his mother, he just didn't like that, at the age of seventeen, and she still treated him like a child of five. He threw a glance to his aunt, hoping that she caught his pleading look, help calling: but Bellatrix was looking at something in the garden, feeling vexed and angry by that childish demonstration of motherly affection.

"Aunt Bellatrix, when will the Initiation Ceremony take place?" asked the young wizard, hoping to begin a serious conversation. "I have successfully overcome my tasks and I don't want to wait anymore."

The Death Eater turned toward her nephew and sat on an easy chair. "The ceremony will take place after Christmas" she replied calmly. "If you are curious to know why, just ask Miss Bianca Trao."

"You know Cabbie, your aunt is really envious of that witch." Narcissa giggled. "Say the truth, dear sister, you would like to curse her and take her place, wouldn't you?"

Bellatrix glared fiercely at her sister, and stood.

"I have breathed enough fresh air for a week," she said and set out toward the chambers the Malfoy had assigned to the Lestranges.

What annoyed her, was that Narcissa was right: Bellatrix was jealous of Bianca and her great confidence with their Lord, just like she was jealous of her sisters -yes, she told herself, even Andromeda. She envied that they had children of their own, but she envied Bianca because of her closeness with the Dark Lord. Sure, she was one of the last living relatives of Lord Voldemort; sure, her father and grandfather has had places of great prestige among the entourage of the most faithful Death Eaters, but how could be that a young woman of that age and without any experience have arrived high? She had an excellent theoretical knowledge, cultivated with books, but Bianca had never taken part in a raid or interrogated a prisoner. Reading and doing were two different things!

**.: ° :. **

**T**he house was silent, despite it being morning: Bianca raised the look to the clock, which said half past ten. She finished her coffee and she got up, to see the master enter the dinning room: she smiled and barely stooped her head.

"Good morning, Thomasi after three days, I was about to come and wake you up." She sat again and she rang a bell; after a bit, Meg came. "You may bring the Master's breakfast: white coffee, almond cake, some croissants and a glass of orange juice."

The maid nodded with a small bow and went away.

"Since when you are my nurse?" Tom asked tired and nervous. "Or are you going to feed me now!"

"I wouldn't dare." Bianca replied sugary. "But you aren't still at your best: you know how distressing such spells are…"

"I know." he mumbled frowning. "You are lucky that now I don't feel up to hexing you."

Bianca smiled politely, as she sat dignified: her back didn't touch the chair; her blackish brown hair was pulled in a knot with two locks at the sides of her face. She poured herself another cup of coffee and put the cup to her lips, paying attention not to spill the scalding liquid on her cream, Muggle dress. She took the Sèvresii piece to her lips, paying attention to don't spill the scalding liquid on her cream, Muggle dress.

She raised her eyes beyond the cup's edge, glancing back at her cousin; she then wiped her lips and said with a sweet and angelic voice. "I have ordered the staff to serve you nourishing meals until your magical balance is settled. Moreover I would like you to avoid to casting any kind of spell."

"I don't need a nurse," he replied angry. "I am able to take care of myself."

"Thomas, the _Psychesyllego Spell_ is one of the most complicated and wearing charms: it hasn't altered only your magical potential, but also your body. Until your balance is stable again, you have to rest. Eat and sleep well."

"Oh, one last thing: Since you were unable to give the order yourself, I have ordered that no one say a word about your physical change, both at the Twelve and the Loyal."

"No one has told you to do this."

"Madam Lestrange told me the same." she replied nonchalantly. "But I have thought that you perhaps would like to think about how exploit your regained youth…"

Tom nodded thoughtfully, unable to reply in a satisfactory way: after all Bianca was kind of right, his former schoolmates wouldn't connect the appearance of the young man he now was with the Halfblood orphan that they had studied with, he merely had to play well his cards. Tom let his Muggle maid to serve him his breakfast and he held a cup with two fingers: he sipped slowly; enjoying white coffee's bittersweet taste and warmth. It had been too long since he had enjoyed such simple pleasures.

"When will you reach a compromise with Bellatrix?" Tom said, facing one of the most pressing questions

The witch twisted her mouth, as if she has gulped down a quite bitter potion. "She should behave in more civil manner: I do not remember the Blacks raise their children in pigsties, with swineherds to look after them. She claims to be called Lady when she behaves like… like a uneducated schizophrenic!"

"Perhaps Bellatrix doesn't use your impeccable manners, but she is faithful and she wholly devotes herself to her duties." he replied with cold and severe voice. "She is a woman embittered by misfortunes and sufferings the fate has given her; taken to the edge of delirium and madness by fourteen years at Azkaban: I don't ask you to give her your pity, she doesn't need it, but I do demand that you give her respect."

Bianca tightened her lips and lowered her eyes, concealing her wounded pride: she stirred again her coffee, biting her lower lip.

She then threw a fleeting glance to Tom and she announced. "There are some dissatisfactions among the Lower Ranks. There are some rumours that, if they reach our enemies' ears, they could give us problems."

Tom snorted and tilted his head, looking at the woman with defiance. "Really? And what would these rumours say?"

"It isn't a joke, Thomas. I… I remember what dad said, that the better way is the carrot not the stick, the _panem et circensem_ of Roman memory and so on. Your Death Eaters fear your punishments, and apart from a Muggle hunting now and then, they don't have any reward: no loot to divide after a raid, no prisoners to…"

"To allow such things would be hazardous. Do you think the Ministry spend its day twiddling its thumbs? No, Bianca, if they suspect you, the Aurors monitor even how many times your own house elf goes to the bathroom! And if your subjects don't understand that, it is your duty to get that in their heads!"

"It is also a matter of trust: some Death Eaters are still in Azkaban since last year, while others have been broken out after few days. Do you have any idea of the effect that this attitude has on them?" Bianca said angrily. "I tell you: it convinces them that, after all, you don't care about them, whatever they do. And I'm also referring to the fact that, even if we know there are traitors among us, you don't get rid of them."

"There are traitors and then there are traitors," he replied quietly. "and, in a way, I understand Severus's reasons. As for the Death Eaters still at Azkaban, it is obvious why they are there: Lucius has proven an incompetent, Wormtail has been so stupid to get into debt with Harry Potter; Avery… it would be better not to talk about him. Tell me how I could trust such elements."

Bianca rolled her eyes and raised her arms in exasperation. "Do you think I attend Muggle Psychology only as a cover! As dad used to say, know your enemy; in this case apply his knowledge. Break them out. You'll do the others an injection of trust and loyalty, driving away danger of betrayal and rebellion."

"Perhaps," said Tom, unwilling to commit to her plan of action just yet.

He knew Bianca. Just because he had been ill, she thought she could take over the strings of command. Well she wasn't going to use her Muggle Psychology on him.

"You should learn from your father," he added in a deadly soft tone. "He never ever questioned me about the whys and wherefores. And your grandfather Alfio, he did the same."

Bianca sighed. "I'll come back in the afternoon and we'll talk about it with the others, all right?" she persisted.

He didn't answer her.

"You know I only want what is best for you."

She was right. He knew she did.

"Yes," he said. "and say hello to Isabellina," he said dismissing her with an ironic smile.

She snorted and she went toward the entry; but on the door she turned and said. "One last thing: don't change Ms. Weasley's moon, I want try to find out something from the aunts about what happened.

"Be patient, you will be feeling stronger soon."

**.: ° :.**

**L**ater that day, at the Death Eater meeting, one of the DE, said,

"… our informers have told us about suspect activity inside the Order of the Phoenix: it isn't still clear what Dumbledore have in mind, but they don't suspect of our spies."

"That old idiot and his manias." snorted an amused Death Eater. "He wouldn't be able to recognize one of ours not even having him under his long nose."

They laughed and Tom invited the Death Eater to sit.

"Excellent job Rookwood." he said with a grin. "Rodolphus, reward Loveday for her dedication and tell her in my place that she is her mother's worthy daughter. How are the Initiation Ceremony's preparations proceeding?"

A man around his fifties got up and said. "Continuing well, everything will be ready for the beginning of December.

"Since many beginners are still students, we have to find a way to get them out of Hogwarts without arousing suspicions: We thought to send portkeys as Christmas's gifts, but in the last year the castle's wards have been strengthened."

There was a long silence: Tom got up and began to walk back and forth thoughtfully. His followers looked at him with fear, almost waiting his burst of anger. He grazed a foxglove in a pot with his fingertips and stared at the late summer sky.

"There is always a way to bypass such spells," he said finally. "Find out which they are and find the proper combination of counter spells."

With this they concluded the agenda. "Fix the meeting with the Lower Ranks for September the third and warn the families De Ravenelle, Malfoy, Avery, Mazzone and Kirrons to be ready to receive guests."

The Death Eaters nodded and waited permission to leave. But Tom said nothing, staring thoughtfully at the luxuriant garden.

"But before you go, I want to share with you some decisions that I want to be confidential."

They kept silent, glancing at each other and wondering about what could require such secrecy: usually, the decisions were communicated to every Death Eater.

Tom brought his hands behind his back, watching his followers' faces reflected in the windowpane and announced. "After have thought about what happened two weeks ago, I have decided to exploit it as better as possible."

"Are you referring to… to yours regained youth?" ventured a witch, wrapped in a cobalt robe.

"Yes, Edna: I think that, if I present myself with a new name, I would even have an appointment with the Minister." Tom nodded with a grin. "Obviously the less people that know about my double identitythe better.

"At the general meetings I will wear a mask and my cloaks will be manufactured to dissimulate the body. Dominic, you will take care of it." The Death Eaters nodded. "Bianca, I want you to create my new identity: use all your channels and exploit every contact with the authorities, magical and not."

"I would suggest you Thomas Maria Meridiæ." Bianca said with a proud smile. "After all it should have been your name, if Aunt Agata had been able to convince her husband to adopt you, as the Confraternity's rules say.

"Besides, the Meridiæ clan has never been associated to you or any other kind of Dark activity: if you will pretend to be a neutral wizard, no one will suspect your true identity.

"A branch of the family still lives in Johannesburg: I'll contact them and I'll find an escamotage to justify a twenty-five years old relative."

Bellatrix gave her a fiery glance and grumbled something about peacocks and hens. Tom ignored the two women and gave them permission to go.

**.: ° :.**

**W**ith his folded arms, an asymmetrical smile curling his lips and a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach that hadn't left him in weeks, Tom watched Virginia sitting at the other side of the table. The dirty plates spoke about a sober but refined dinner and a centrepiece of autumn's flowers was like a little motley forest, hiding his doll.

His doll… since he had regained his powers and youthful look, he had just played a little bit with her; but as time passed, he found himself more and more tempted to possess her completely. He remembered what Bianca had said, but the aunts had little to say on the subject. He shoved the thought away. He would take no one's advice. He, and he alone, would decide. And Tom stared at his doll, at that lightless and emotionless expression. He wondered if a person who has received a Dementor kiss really became a kind of vegetable without any will. Did something stay inside the body, like a reflex? The sure thing was that a woman in such state wouldn't refuse a man's advances, even if he were the most ugly one in the world, let alone to any kind of sexual practices: a really alluring thought.

"You know Virginia," he said, placing his napkin near the plate and reaching for her. "Frankly I don't care of what Bianca says about your change of moon. You are my china doll, so why shouldn't I have you even physically? I know what you would tell me right now, that I am a sadistic pervert: I thank you for your unspoken compliment, but now let's go to bed."

He grabbed her hands, leading her through the staircases and into his bedroom.

The room was dark, lighted only by the last embers in the fireplace and a lamp's greenish light. Tom sat on his bed, while Virginia was standing in front of him: he looked at her for a long time; a weird itch awakened and incited his body. He laid a hand on her hip, feeling her light warmth through the cloth, he then encircled her waist with an arm and he pulled her to him, sinking his face in her soft stomach. He stayed in this way as hands travelled on her back and buttocks. He then made her sit on his knees and he unbuttoned her shirt. Her breast, wrapped by batiste and lace, was pale and inviting. His left hand slipped between the cloth and the skin, while the other one unbuttoned her dress. He sank his face in her neck, continuing to touch her, and playfully bit her. His fingers grabbed her chin and he made her turn toward him. He grinned, while he looked at Virginia's empty eyes, like cold and lightless cornelian, and he then kissed her hungrily. Without taking his lips from hers, Tom let Virginia's clothes slip to the floor.

He looked pleased at the young woman, naked, in his arms, her porcelain-like skin seemed more inviting and it tempted him with the promise of ancient and forgotten pleasures, pleasures that till the previous day he had just tasted in tiny bits. Tom got up to place his china doll on the bed and he got undressed. He then set their garments on an easy chair and he stretched atop her. He resumed touching her, at times with delicacy, other times pinching? Hurting her skin, but he didn't get more than a reflex. He caressed her inner thighs, spreading her legs and slipping inside: he found a resistance and grinned diabolically, clicking his tongue.

"It is time to change moon, Virginia." Tom sing-sung. "Your mother wouldn't be pleased, if she knows that you have been fucked by Lord Voldemort."

He forced the thin barrier. He began to move inside her, focusing on his own pleasure and giving himself up to his instinct: Tom cared neither for the girl nor for the unlikely bonds that would tie her to him. He came, and then, after he rested, he repeated fucked her again until he was satisfied. Finally, Tom collapsed in a tangle of limbs and sheets, and slept.

**T**hat was only the first of many nights, since Tom found the whole situation really alluring: it was like be back in his early youth, when he used to experience sexuality's aspects. Sometimes he acted as the sweetest of the lovers, and sometimes he was as cruel as with a Muggleborn wizard or a nosy Auror. And then there were the times when he merely deserted his own bed for his room at _The White Lilies_ –the most well-known and expensive brothel in Wizarding London- or of a cheated-on wizard.

Taking care of Virginia was a huge weight for Meg: at the beginning it was like playing with a life size doll, the little Muggle girl had to dress her, feed her and do all the little things that she used to do with her doll. But Virginia was a person, not a toy, and it was a very sad situation. It made Meg think about one of her playmates' grandfather, whom could do nothing but stare into nothing: he was worse than a baby, and the child's relative often fought about put him in an old people's home.

"When grandpa will go away," Meg's playmate used to say, "I'll get my own bedroom."

Virginia wasn't an old woman and the Dark Lord treated as if she was not even a human being.

"She's just a tool to get… pleasures you're too young for," once Bellatrix told her, "don't question about it anymore. _Crucio_."

And Meg hadn't questioned about it anymore, at least aloud: in her heart, she could do nothing but wonder about the whys and wherefores. What was so pleasuring in someone who was not even able to get up without any help? Why did the Dark Lord like to spent part of his time with some one whom couldn't reply his questions?

**.: ° :.**

**I**t was custom of the Ministry organize a Christmas party for its employees, and the raging war wasn't a good excuse to avoid it, at least in the eyes of the organizers, quite the opposite! Many members of the organizing committee thought that not only the party could help them to collect funds –since when families like the Malfoys had shown their colours, the Ministry was in financial trouble- but also a way to make alliances with foreign country against Lord Voldemort.

What many guests and Aurors on duty ignored, was that even the Dark Lord himself was attending the party: thanks to his regained youth and some connections of Death Eaters above suspicion, it had been quite easy for Tom to get an invitation. He felt a perverse and wicked pleasure in meddling with his own enemies and listening unaware people's conversations.

But Tom was also pleased, both because of his own acting abilities and Virginia: although the Imperius Curse made her look like a clumsy manoeuvred puppet –you can't expect that much from a soulless shell, thanks to a glamour charm made her look less like a Weasley and nobody suspected of her identity. More than once the wizard received compliment for his "sister", and Tom had to say that Virginia looked great in pale rose, even without the glamour charm: he felt a mix of self-satisfaction and jealousy as he noted the other men's interested glances. More over the others Weasleys attending the party didn't worry him: officially, everybody knew Virginia Molly Weasley was dead.

Percy sighed heavily, feeling everything but cheerful: no one in his family had truly given up to see Ginny again. However, the disgrace had a positive side, and it was that he had mended fences with his family: sure, there were still a couple of disagreements, but the Weasleys were once again a close family.

"Percy?" asked Penelope, slightly worried, "Percy, are you ok?"

The young man nodded. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Penelope sighed and looked around, thinking of a way to raise her fiancé's spirits. "I don't think they would mind us going back home earlier, and then… and then I may stop by your place and… spend Christmas' Eve just you and I."

Penelope's boldness caught Percy off his guard and he stared at her, then a faint smile curved his lips as he encircled her shoulder with his arm. "Ok then, but let say goodnight to Mr Fudge, at least."

The couple searched for the Minister and they found him with his wife and some very important people talking at the hall's opposite side: Percy and Penelope had to walk along the hall's perimeter to not bother the dancing couples. They were almost there, when Percy halted, fixing his eyes on a red haired girl in pale rose.

"Ginny…" he whispered, feeling an unexpected hope rose inside him.

"Percy?" Penelope called and then she snorted, hastening to apologize.

"That… that's Ginny!" he said a bit more aloud, ignoring his surrounding but the girl.

The people whispered something, trying to understand whom he was talking about.

"I see," said a woman sympathetically, spotting the girl in pale rose, "I too mistook her for you poor sister, Mr Weasley, when I have been introduced to Miss Meridiæ."

"You are right, Mrs Fudge," added a black man, "she looks a lot like Miss Weasley indeed."

Percy felt that hope shatters; its pieces cut his emotions like glass splinters.

"Her brother and she had moved from Johannesburg last autumn, it seems the girl is very ill." Added Mrs Fudge with a pained sigh. "If you want us to introduce you…"

"No, thank you, we… we were leaving," Percy replied with a polite smile.

"Then I'll expect you the day after tomorrow at half past eight," ended Mr Fudge with his flat voice. "Merry Christmas Mr Weasley."

**.: ° :.**

**M**any wondered why the initiation of a new Death Eater required such a waste of time and money. After all, it was a mere oath of loyalty sealed by the Dark Mark's imposition. But with the passing of years, a ceremony had been created around the event, filling it with mysterious symbols.

Narcissa didn't know why her son's robe had to be made with that fabric –hand woven blue velvet- and of Muggle manufacture, or why his mask had to come from Venice. Yet, as she helped him to get ready, she felt proud, in a certain way. Narcissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thanking mentally her dress robe's fullness: when he had known about her pregnancy, right after his jailbreak, Lucius had said nothing about his wife's unfaithfulness and he hadn't imposed his point of view, as he used to do. Bellatrix had taken advantage to oppose an abortion's hypothesis, affirming that if the Dark Lord had ordered to never ever harm a visibly pregnant woman –may she witch or Muggle, it doesn't mattered, they has to be quite important reasons.

Narcissa snorted. She didn't know who the father was -and in her heart she hoped it was a baby girl, because no one at Malfoy Manor liked the thought that Draco may share his inheritance with a bastard. She smiled to her son, arranging a lock falling on his forehead, and she started to say something, but a Death Eater opened the door and announced that the ceremony was about to begin.

**F**rom the high baluster, the Dark Lord watched his followers milling in the hall below: blue and black cloaks twirled on the polished dark marble floor. He glanced at the woman behind him, a mere Muggle notebook in her hands.

"You know that I don't want to see you with that stuff." he hissed dangerously.

She glanced back at him and hid the object among the folds of her cloak. "The day after tomorrow I have an exam, and even if isn't hard to charm my professors, it is good to keeps the perfect student's façade."

"This is neither the place nor the time to read Freud, Bianca. Do you have news from the aunts?"

"None, talking with them is like trying to get flying directions from a centaur." she sighed in exasperation: she appeared at the baluster, staring into space, and then she took a parchment from her cloak and handed it to her cousin. "But they have asked me to give this to you."

He took it and read it, frowning: his eyes darkened and then he sniggered. "It is a letter from prince Ilya Pavloviĉ Jazycov, he asks me unofficially to give Ms. Weasley back her soul, and then leave her with Blaise Zabini. Weird that after sixteen years he shows an interest in his son's life."

"The Confraternity's rules impose such behaviour, Thomas, your case isn't very different from the young Zabini's one." whispered Bianca, shaking slightly her head. "You'll do what he asks, won't you? I have heard say that the boy is ready to do his best to get back his beloved."

"Are you kidding?" he replied, burning the piece of parchment with a spell. "Virginia belongs to me. She's my china doll and I will allow to no one to take her."

"Virginia what?" Bianca looked at him upset, her face pale. "Please, don't tell me that… are you mad? She's still under age! I told you it could be dan-"

"_Crucio_!" he hissed, pointing his wand against her. "First: do you think I care about her age? Second: I allow to no one to talk to me with such a tone, Bianca, even if they are Gorgone, Mormo and Ereschigal. Nobody will tell me what do and what not to do. Nobody will make my decisions. Perhaps, I have allowed you too much power!"

And with a neat gesture he broke the crucio spell. Bianca gasped, clinging to the wooden baluster.

"N-no, why should I go against my own blood?" she whisper, taking back breath. "It is because I care for you that I want you to avoid such indiscretions: sex could be a very strong magic, if it finds a fertile ground, but modern wizards have forgotten it."

He looked at her emotionlessly, thinking he had forgotten more about the magic she spoke of, than she ever knew. He then made a black wood mask appear and he grumbled. "Help me to wear this trap."

Bianca rose with difficulty and shook her head: how could her cousin ignore such things? And with such thoughts crossing her mind, she tightened the mask's strap.

"**H**ere, I vow it on flesh-tearing Sword.

"Here, I vow it on blood-receiving Cup.

"And on the Wand, instrument of my power, and on Charon-paying Coin.

"Here, I vow it on Blood, because blood will flow on my hands: my life is no longer mine; my body is no longer mine.

"I belong to my Lord, to my Master: my devotion will be firm and firm will be my loyalty.

"I will renounce betrayal and I will punish whom betrayal commits.

"I will act against the enemies of my ancestors and those whom my enemies support.

"Nothing will stop me, neither tears nor prayers, only the word of my Master will stop my hand, because to him it belongs.

"Here, this I vow, on Cup and Sword, Coin and Wand, on Blood and Styge, on Moon and Sun and Stars, on Uppers and Unders and on my most precious in this World."

Pronouncing this oath, the Initiates took dagger hanging from their belt; they cut their left palm and poured some blood drops in a cup held by their Godfathers. The cup was filled with a fuming liquid and handed it back to their godchildren, who drained it. The new Death Eaters cued in two lines to receive the Dark Mark. They advanced three steps, facing their Dark Sire; they kissed his cloak's edge and offered him their left forearm. The Dark Lord pointed his wand and, whispering a charm in an unknown language, he branded his new followers' flesh.

After the ceremony, the celebrations took place: wine flowed in rivers and food appeared endlessly in the silvery plates. The prisoners kept alive for the event, performed macabre dances and fights. Bellatrix felt proud, in a way: her only nephew was continuing the traditions and he would bring glory to their family. Sure, the boy had still some skidding -whims of a spring- but with time he would learn what the most important things were. In those months, Rodolphus, Rabastan and she had been busy with Draco's preparation, teaching him everything that a wizard and Dark Lord's follower had to know. Bellatrix glimpsed Bianca -no other Death Eater would sit so stiffly- and with a wicked smile hidden by her mask, she approached her.

"Nice party, don't you agree?" Bellatrix said casually. "I am so proud of my nephew: he really knows how make his family happy, unlike the sister of some one I know."

Bianca snorted and glanced sideways at her. "At least I know that my sister will never marry a filthy Mudblood, and I find it deleterious for a witch or wizard's magical strength to be initiated to the dark practices before her or his complete growth."

"And what does our Lord say about that?" wondered Bellatrix, batting her eyelashes.

The younger woman grumbled something in Italian.

She then took a deep breath and replied sugary. "My family's business doesn't concern you. And then… and then Isabella is well where she is."

Bellatrix smiled, fully satisfied with the day: Draco had officially become a Death Eater and she had been able to put her rival in difficulty. Oh yes, indeed a sweet day.

**.: ° :.**

**I**t was almost dawn when Tom went back at Elysian Fields: the celebrations had gone on and one. It was around one in the morning when they had attacked a village, just to give the young Death Eaters some practice.

Quietly, Tom went into Virginia's bedroom: she slept quietly among linen and feather pillows. Gently shaking her shoulder, he waked her: Virginia opened her eyes and stared at him. Tom made her sit and pulled her against his own breast sinking his fingers in her red blood locks.

"You know, Virginia, today young Draco Malfoy has become a Death Eater: now he will have a new reason to torture the Golden Trio. Ah, you won't be offended if he makes your brother, Potter and their Mudblood friend's life a hell, will you?

"Albus may suspect that the new Death Eaters generation is at Hogwarts. He could take some precautions but his hands are tied. He could be dismissed if he makes accusations without proof. He has only Severus's word. Today Severus wasn't at the meeting, Voldemort let him know that his presence would be more useful somewhere else: he may be a spy, but he still needs Severus.

"The only thing that worries me, is that Isabellina still isn't one of us: that girl has a great potential, as dark witch, but she's too influenced by the aunts and I don't like it.

"That's enough with these troublesome thoughts. Why don't we play a little bit, my little doll?"

He moved the covers and raised the girl, placing her head on his shoulder, then he opened the door with a kick and he crossed the hallway: he didn't worry if Meg didn't find Virginia in her bed. Anyway, it wasn't the first time.

Once in his bedroom, Tom undressed slightly impatient, he then made Virginia sit on his lap, lacing her legs around his own waist. He caressed her lips with his thumb before kissing her, with growing enthusiasm: he almost tore her nightgown and underwear. He settled her better on his body and, grabbing her buttocks, He began to move her above him, closing his eyes. But when he opened them and he looked at her, Tom felt a boiling anger inside him: no reaction, neither irregular breathe nor a sweat drop of sweat.

Tom pushed her and Virginia thudded on the mattress, then he got up and began to walk nervously back and fort in the chamber: every time he had to do everything, which wasn't so much different from pleasuring himself. Moreover inside his head twirled fantasies that required Virginia's collaboration: with the passing of the weeks, her lack of reaction had become quite boring. Tom wanted to hear her scream his name, see her face transfigured by horror and pleasure. Tom wanted Virginia to feel and know that she belonged to him and that her life or death depended on his whim.

He drew near his desk and, opened a drawer, he took a small dark glass vial: Virginia's soul. A Potions Master would have paid any price for a pinch of it, since it was an important ingredient for dark, powerful mixtures. Should he give Virginia's soul back? It would be rather amusing. Of course Bianca wouldn't appreciate it and Blaise Zabini would have had a new reason to claim the girl. Tom had the impression that even his aunts were interested in Virginia. If it took a bad turn, even torturing and killing her would be an amusing option.

Smiling devilishly, Tom went back in the bed and he put the blanket over them. He then opened Virginia's mouth and he made her swallow the vial's contents. Nothing happened, and for a moment Tom doubted it had worked. But when he saw Virginia grimace and whisper something and turn in her sleep, Tom smiled at his own fantasies and fell asleep holding her.

* * *

i I find "Tom" more a nickname than a proper name, that's why Bianca uses "Thomas". 

ii A French town well know for porcelain manufacture.


	3. Lenci

**"China Doll"**

**Chapter 3  
****_"Lenci i"_**

As she tossed in bed, Virginia felt that the other side was still warm and she cuddled there, holding her pillow. The fabric smelt of cologne: she knew that scent, even if she didn't remembered whose it was. That warmth and that scent made her feel good and safe, and she smiled; maybe it had been a mere dream. Death Eaters had never caught her and Lord Voldemort had never used her to regain his full powers. Who knows, perhaps that nightmare was the result of Fred and George's latest product; Virginia had to tell her mother and then they had to check all the spices' jars. She heard the mattress's springs creak and moist fingers grazed her cheeks and hair.

"Good morning sunshine," said a voice.

Smiling sleepy, Virginia half-opened her eyes: she didn't know that smiling man; nevertheless… nevertheless he was familiar. He was in his middle twenties, his jet-black, curly hair dripped. His almond-shaped, green honeyed eyes stared at her filled with mystery. He wore a beard and moustaches, neither sparse nor shaggy, that softened his sharp but well proportioned features and his fleshy lips curled in a sensual smile. He was rather pale but he looked healthy; his body was toned and there was a scar on his chest, near his heart. And he was naked. Virginia noticed she was naked too. That scent, that smile, those eyes…

"Tom!" she screamed, scooting back and holding the linen sheets to hide her nudity.

Sneering, Tom drew closer and tilted his head in mock disappointment. "Is this the proper way to wish me a good day, Virginia? You should be more enthusiastic after what has been between the two of us…"

Virginia froze hearing that. "W-what do you mean?"

"You're disappointing me, it is so obvious!" he grinned, placing his hand on her breast. "I am a healthy man and young once again, I have my needs…"

"Do not touch me!" Virginia screamed, trying to get away.

Tom was quicker and neatly trapped her under his body, holding her wrists. Virginia tried to free herself but his hold was too strong.

"I'll touch you, like it or not, just as I've touched you these past months and it is how I will continue to do so," he sneered sadistically.

Virginia shut her eyes, screaming her loathing, "You bastard! Let me go!"

"Oh… yes… don't stop Virginia… do you want to know what you do to me?" Tom clicked his tongue and forced her left hand onto his manhood.

She gasped and turned her head in embarrassment. He chuckled and, with his free hand, he took his wand and aimed it at her wrists. He whispered, "_Incarcerous!_" and thin silk ropes wrapped around Virginia's arms and tied her up to the headboard.

She stared at him, whispering quite frightened, "What… what are you doing?!"

"It is obvious, Virginia: we'll end what we began last night…" he whispered, leaning on her and then kissing her.

Virginia offered resistance, but it was useless: he was a too good kisser and it was impossible to not kiss him back. As his hands grazed her skin, Virginia realized that her mind and her body were acting as two different entities: only her reason wanted him to stop, to leave her alone, but her instinct didn't agree. Virginia had to bite her lower lip to not moan when Tom licked her breasts.

"Come on, Virginia, don't restrain yourself… " Tom hissed as his smile lowered on her flesh.

Virginia closed her eyes and turned her head again as new tears flowed on her cheeks. After endless minutes, Tom brought his face at level with hers and, with a hand, he turned her head. In a sadistically gentle gesture, he licked away her tears and the blood pouring from her lips, pressing his body against hers.

"You have half an hour to get ready for breakfast," Tom said suddenly.

Virginia opened her eyes wide and watched him getting dressed; then, as soon as she got untied, she took her clothes and ran into her bedroom, trying to not cry.

Bianca sighed nervously and knocked at the door. She didn't get an answer and the bedroom seemed empty. She knocked once again, and then she tightened her lips, as if she was disgusted by what she was going to do, and held the doorknob.

"Virginia, I know you are there…" She heard something, like rustling fabric; she rolled her eyes and opened the door. "I am coming in, and you better have a good excuse!"

At first, it seemed that there was no one in the room. Bianca kept still; ready to catch the slightest noise. Then there was a choked sob.

With a quick pace, the young woman reached the bathroom's door; she took a deep breath to calm down her nerves and she whispered sugary, "Virginia? Virginia, it isn't polite to keep people waiting."

"Go away!" sobbed the girl behind the door.

"Don't act like a child!" Bianca replied sternly. "You are no longer one, like it or not. I don't like it either, but as you English people say: there is no turning back now. Now, open this door and come out."

Having said that, Bianca walked to Virginia's wardrobe and opened it. In those few months it had been filled with dress robes of every style and colour, dress robes sewn to be worn by only one girl. Tom had a good taste; both in clothing and many other things, and the young witch had nothing to do but choice a proper dress for that cold December morning. Bianca chose a violet, velvet dress that she leaned on the bed and then she waited.

Virginia crouched between the bathtub and the toilet and she heard Bianca bustling about in the next room. She leaned her forehead on her knees, still crying. Memories she had forgotten, events that had been created by the diary's horrid will, came flooding back into her mind, dreams and fake memories that had become sad actual facts. Virginia ran a hand through her hair, just like her mother used to do to comfort her when she was a little girl. A little girl… at sixteen you are no longer a child. Bianca was right about that. Hermione had once told her that at this age a Muggle could get a license to drive, which was like getting a license to Apparate for a wizard. But at sixteen you still aren't an adult.

Bianca knocked again, slightly impatient and she tried to convince Virginia to get out and have breakfast. The older witch described what would happen if she didn't obey; then she tempted Virginia with the prospect of how her life would be with the Dark Lord. Bianca talked about marvels, journeys in far counties, and most important of all, about the benefits her family would have only if she acted as Tom wanted because he could be very generous.

And in the end, Virginia got out the bathroom. Bianca quickly urged her to get dressed and as soon as Virginia was ready, she took her with her downstairs.

"I am sorry for our delay," whispered Bianca, letting Virginia into the dinning room. "Our guest is a bit… stubborn."

Bellatrix snorted, amused, and Tom glanced at her reproachfully.

"You don't have to apologize, Donna Bianca," said a woman in her fifties. "The Weasleys have never been a shining example of conduct; I remember a Christmas when the twins created panic at the Ministry. The third-born is an exception: nice young man, polite, ambitious, but perhaps a bit of, forgive the term's rudeness, a bootlicker."

Virginia stared at the woman amazed, wondering how she could know her family so well. She had a rather anonymous look, yet she looked familiar with that olive complexion and brown hair of hers. The girl got felt sick when she recognized her: she was no less than the Minister's wife, Mrs. Edna Fudge. Virginia had met her a couple of years before, during one of the Ministry's Christmas tea party for the employees' children. Back then, Mrs. Fudge had looked more like an inconsolable widow than Wizarding England's First Lady.

"But she has a pleasant figure, which is the most important thing for a woman. A bit rough, indeed, but even the Venus de Milo was a rough block of stone before it was sculpted," added a fourth woman, standing up.

"You forestall me, Erzsèbet, as always," said Tom with a smile. "Madams, as I have called you here with almost no notice, it is because I would like for you—using our friend's words—to turn this block of stone into the Venus de Milo, or at least a good imitation." He pointed at Virginia. "Edna, Bianca, you will take care of her social education. I admit that this uncouth girl isn't first-rate, but I trust in your abilities and I know you'll turn her into the best possible lady. Bellatrix, you will give her magic lessons: just theory, don't worry. I don't like the idea of having an ignorant little girl in my house. Erszèbet, you…"

"Uh uh, you don't need to tell me _what_ I have to teach her. I'll make of her a girl worthy of _White Lilies_," laughed the woman, covering her thin, scarlet lips with her hand.

A shiver ran on Virginia's back, like an omen, and as she grudgingly ate her porridge, she glanced at the woman named Erzsèbet. She was indeed beautiful, her mahogany chestnut hair was styled at the latest fashion and two black irises stood out against her ivory skin, but something gave her a rather disturbing and gloomy air, as if she reeked of blood and death.

After he finished his tea, Tom declared the breakfast over. They left the table and with an _"Accio!"_ he summoned a heavy black cloak. The six of them moved to the entrance, where the house elves had brought a trunk, which Tom shrank and he put it in his cloak's folds.

"Until I know how to solve this bother, I'll send you my instructions via owl. Take care of my china doll." He smiled sarcastically as the women bowed in respect, then he addressed to the girl. "Why, Virginia, I'm going away and you aren't even going to kiss me goodbye?"

He brutally grabbed her shoulder and kissed her: it was a cold and invasive kiss, almost painful, and Virginia wished to still be a soulless shell. Tom bit her lower lip and let her go, a mocking and sardonic smile cut across his face, and then he left.

"What…why go that way?," stuttered Virginia, trying to sound unaffected. "Couldn't he simply Disapparate?"

"Elysian Fields is surrounded by powerful wards, you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside its grounds," replied Mrs. Fudge, then she placed her hand on Virginia's shoulder. "Come with us Miss Weasley, we have to talk about… your plan of studies."

Even spending many sleepless nights, perhaps not even Tom could have conceived a torture worse than the four Death Eaters' plan of studies. Mrs. Fudge and Bianca alternated in etiquette lessons, made up of high heeled shoes, floor sweeping dress robes and heavy books on the girl's head. And as Mrs. Edna filled her conversations with clear allusions to the Weasleys; Miss Trao, with a voice enviable by Dolores Umbridge, cruelly lashed Virginia, repeating that, indeed, she didn't like to act that way but the girl's mistakes forced her. Bellatrix, instead, with the purpose to show her hexes and potions' effects, used the girl like a guinea pig, sadistically indulging in the Dark Arts. However, it was when Erzsèbet, the half vampire, was in charge that Virginia was truly frightened; she was afraid she would be bitten. Aside from the fear of having the older witch suck her blood, it terrified her to be left withered and lifeless. And, indifferent to Virginia's opinions and morals, Erzsèbet taught her everything a luxury prostitute should know about her job, and it was hard to say where executing the Dark Lord's orders ended and where her lust's pleasure began.

It was one of those afternoons, sadly rare, when Virginia was able to spend a couple of quiet hours without the four women bustling about her. A nice fire burned in the library's fireplace while outside, snow and wind plagued the surrounding grounds. Bianca sat languidly in an armchair, her feet stretched out toward the flame and a Muggle Psychology book in her hands, and Bellatrix idled on the room's other side, talking with her husband—since Tom's departure, Rodolphus Lestrange had been the only man Virginia had seen. Erzsèbet was in London to take care of her own business. Mrs Fudge also had to go away for a couple of days, since the Ministry was organizing a fête to raise funds for war widows and orphans. Virginia thought Edna's behaviour was sickeningly hypocritical; she was a woman who killed a man by night and the day after she offered the dead man's family her condolences. Virginia thought about how it would be pleasant to report her to the Aurors for mere revenge, for the satisfaction of showing that traitor of the family—Percy—who the woman he praised as "an ideal wife" actually was.

"How I'd love to go outside," she thought aloud.

"With this cold?" asked Bianca, without moving her eyes from her book. "You would catch pneumonia and my cousin wouldn't like it. Get away from that window and come here to get warm."

The girl didn't moved and instead tightened her lips, then sneered, "You know, I find strange that you call Tom _"cousin"_ when we all know that he doesn't have any aunt or uncle."

"For once I agree with Miss Weasley, as ludicrous as it sounds," smiled Bellatrix, looking away from Rodolphus.

Bianca shrugged her shoulders and closed her book, using her right forefinger as a bookmark. "Follow me, Virginia."

The young witch stared at her, amazed by those words. She glanced at the couple and then she reached her. The Lestranges also stood up but Bianca gave them a withering look.

"I don't remember you having been allowed in the east wing," she snorted.

"Our Master ordered us to not leave his… guest alone," Rodolphus replied, quiet and tired.

"I am able to take care of who is entrusted to me by myself, but I thank you for your kind thought, Mr. Lestrange," the witch ended with her usual elegant and sugary demeanour.

Virginia followed Bianca through empty hallways. They crossed a hall lightened by the faint light coming from large windows opening on to the gardens; you could barely see the sofas' and elegant tables' shapes.

"This is the ballroom; more than seventy years have passed since the last time this hall had been opened," whispered Bianca, as if she was afraid to awaken the ghosts of that distant time.

The east wing emanated the memory of a sumptuous time, when matrons wrapped in precious fabrics and noble sirs lingered on those halls, sure of their blood's pureness and their richness. The two women stopped before an inlaid door and Bianca opened it as an archaeologist would open a tomb. She whispered a, _"Lumos!"_ and the lamps suddenly turned on. It was as if a silent crowd stared at the two women from the walls.

"This is the Meridiæ family's portrait room, and that," said Bianca pointing to a seemingly empty wall, "is the family tree."

It was a tapestry similar to the one Virginia had seen at Grimmauld Place, but this looked more like an actual tree—a leafy, silvery tree. On its root, the name of Salazar Slytherin and the exotic one of a woman seemed to shine, supporting that of an Elazar Meridiæ. Looking through those ten centuries of family history, the girl was surprised to not see names like Black or Malfoy and that, if there weren't any sons, a woman had given an heir without being married. Almost at the top, under what seemed a pruned and then re-grafted branch, she read the name Trao.

"Thomas's maternal grandmother," explained Bianca, pointing at two portraits, "Donna Agata Maria Agnese Trao, was my grandfather's grandfather's sister. Technically Thomas and I are sixth or seventh cousins, but we treat each other as closer relatives, since there is no one else but the Aunt and us."

Virginia looked at the two portraits: a stern and grave man, with sharp features and side-whiskers, he had his mouth opened and brows knitted as if somebody had petrified him in a fit of anger; a woman, with the soft and gentle look of a grandmother who liked to spoil her grandchildren and spend her Saturdays baking biscuits. And between the two portraits there was an empty frame, shaped like silvery ivy's vines and wild roses' branches.

"Why is that frame empty? And why don't the portraits move?" asked Virginia, staring at the pictures.

Bianca shrugged her shoulders. "Thomas thought they were a bit too noisy. And about Aunt Herentas's portrait, I only know that her father took it away the very same day she got married, right after he had blasted her off the family tree, which was repaired by Aunt Agata after her husband's death—you can see Thomas there too—but no one knows what happened to Aunt Herentas's portrait. Let's go."

Not satisfied yet, Virginia asked about Mr. Riddle and at that Bianca sent her a withering glare. "I advise you to not talk about that again… he does not even deserve to be called a man after what he did. And no, my dear, I think the same of everyone who acts in that way, may he be a wizard or a Muggle!"

Virginia felt a shiver ran on her back, and she knew it wasn't because of the cold.

Tom wrapped his cloak around his body, sheltering himself from a sudden gust of north wind and raised his eyes, looking at the wrought iron gate that protected Elysian Fields' main entrance. The wizard felt those ancient wards pulsing, as if to determine whether the man was a welcome presence or an intruder. The magic recognized his as the Master, the Heir, and it opened the gate for him. The English spring was at its best in the gardens here, Tom thought as he glimpsed the last spots of snow under the trees and the fresh grass covering the grounds. He breathed the heather smelling air and looked at the ivy becoming green again on the building's façade. Before the house's entrance, Mrs. Fudge, who was awaiting him below the porch with the other three women, had arranged Meg and the house elves carefully.

"Welcome back home, Master," they whispered, bowing.

Tom nodded and narrowed his eyes, hissing dangerously, "I ordered you to turn Miss Weasley into a high society lady, so why is she not here? Should I think that you did nothing in the whole winter?"

"She's not so well," Edna hastened to answer. "It is… woman's problems."

He snorted in anger and disappointment and he went into the drawing room, followed by the four women. Bianca smiled at him, a bit uneasy in her Muggle clothes.

"I have to go," she apologized. "I have a class within a quarter of an hour. I'll see you at the next meeting."

Bellatrix glanced gloatingly at her, and then she asked, "May I ask a leave for Lucius Malfoy and I? Narcissa is near her time and…"

"So soon?" Bianca asked, turning. "I know the baby is due in early June."

"It has been a difficult pregnancy," replied the woman, a bit embarrassed. "She had to spend a lot of time at bed."

"Really? But when I met her at Diagon Alley last week, Narcissa seemed in excellent health. Poor dear, she has gained quite a bit of weight. She looked as if she were nine months pregnant, not seven," Bianca replied nonchalantly and then walked away.

Bellatrix followed the younger woman with her eyes, barely holding back her murderous instinct. Tom sighed, tired of that pointless and counterproductive rivalry, and gave instructions for their next meeting.

It was a quiet March Saturday, the first Virginia had spent without the four Death Eaters buzzing around her. On the other hand, Tom was there to act as her warden and, since early morning, he had demanded her to stay within ten feet of him. They were sitting in the library, a light breeze came from an open window and the enchanted spinet played a baroque melody. Tom ran his finger on the book's backs, and then found what he was searching for, sat in an armchair and began to read. Virginia stretched, tired by the huge amount of essays Bellatrix gave her – a waste of parchment and ink, because the witch had never even glanced at them – and by the ludicrously quiet afternoon. It was in such an occasion that she missed Fred and George, thinking about how their jokes used to animate her life. She gave a huge sigh, leaning her chin on her palm and staring blankly outside.

"Whoever sighs doesn't have a happy heart." Tom moralized, without looking at her. "And you aren't allowed to be sad."

"Well, no one can choose how they feel, whether it be sad or happy or anything else," she replied sourly. "Or better yet, no one else is as emotionally sterile as you."

Tom sneered, "Lucky me, then! Even if I'm not as emotionally sterile as it seems."

"What are you reading?" Virginia asked after a bit.

It was then that Tom deigned to glance at her. She felt a lump in her throat: it was unbelievable how much Tom resembled Harry, especially with those reading glasses. Yet they were opposite, even in what they shared and that was rather disturbing. The wizard lowered his eyes back on the pages of his book.

"It is _Lost Tales_ by Tolkien," he replied quietly. "Obviously, the author's name is unknown to you."

"Well, it just so happens that I know who he is, since last summer Hermione almost forced me to read one of his books!" she answered back. "It is just… well, it's weird that you, the Dark Lord, read Muggle prose."

"Virginia, Virginia, what many of us don't know is that he was a wizard who liked to live away from our world. My mother knew him; sometimes she went to Oxford merely to talk with someone who loved ancient literature as much as her," Tom said slowly, his voice sad and sweet at the mention of Mrs. Riddle. "He was a man valued by Muggles and lessened by wizards, a rare case in which they still show to be more sensible than us."

Virginia bit her lower lip and went back to writing her essays. Now and then, Tom glanced significantly at her. He settled in the armchair and whispered something with a grin. She frowned, feeling something graze her nape; she glanced at him again, but he was reading his book. Tom looked at the grandfather clock, and he slipped a bookmark between two pages and walked toward a bookshelf.

Suddenly Virginia felt… weird, as if she was empty and she craved to be filled; she dipped her quill in the inkpot and she looked around. Tom was facing away from her and was taking a folder from a shelf. Virginia thought that he wasn't that bad after all; sure, Tom was her tormentor, but he was also a handsome man and a sexy one too. The idea to bed him didn't seem disgusting anymore.

Virginia reached him and made him turn around. Tom smiled curiously at her, tilting his head slightly as she took off his glasses; then she embraced him and kissed him passionately. Tom put his arm round her waist and pulled her closer as his other hand pressed on her nape, his fingers entangled in her red curls. She slipped her hands under his pullover and slipped it off, and then she caressed his chest through his shirt's fabric, her fingers pulling slightly his braces. She grabbed them and slid them onto his arms, then unbuttoned his shirt. Virginia broke the kiss and stared into his eyes. Then she laid her hand on his chest, savouring his skin's velvety texture. She ran a finger over his scar and felt him tremble under her touch; his hands glided on her hip and pulled her closer again. Virginia leaned forward, kissing him once again as she took off her own cardigan and shirt, then, as she spread kisses on his neck and collarbone, she unfastened her bra. As soon as the garment was on the floor, he cupped her breast. Rubbing her face against his chest, Virginia lapped his chest, earning a deep moan from Tom.

After that the rest of their clothes fell on the parquet floor, Tom squeezed her buttocks, lifting her so that their eyes were at the same level and pushing her against the bookshelf. His fingers massaged her centre, carrying her to and beyond her limits. After her first climax, Virginia leaned her head on his shoulder, and with a breathless hiss she asked him to not leave her unsatisfied. Tom pulled back a strand of hair from her check and replied that that was his intention, and saying so, he sank in her depths.

They moved in unison, following the rhythm of a dance as old as mankind, a dance that wrapped them in a spiral of growing pleasure and that urged them to give and receive more. They felt like burning as their voices mixed in a crescendo of moans, and they screamed their release.

They held each other breathlessly, seeking support in the bookshelf. As he got his breath back, Tom loosened his grip on Virginia, who leaned her forehead on his chest. He played with her curls like an idle child and she, breathing their scent—a sensual mix of cologne and violets—took comfort in his warmth. Then, with feline grace, she went back to caressing and kissing him.

"Virginia, you are insatiable!" chuckled Tom. "_Ex libido es_."

Virginia screamed at the top of her lungs, pushing him away. Tom laughed, holding her tightly and crushed her against the bookshelf.

"I didn't know you were so inconstant, Virginia," he said with mock disappointment. "You tempt me and then you refuse me. Do you know the way that makes me feel? It's like showing candy to a child and then not giving it to him…"

"Let me go!" Virginia screamed in tears. "What in the hell have you done?!"

"Me? Actually, it was you who has begun…" whispered Tom with a sardonic smile on his face. "Well, I had to spur you on a bit. However, you liked it too."

She stiffened in horror. "What… what do you mean?!"

"Simple, Virginia: a little spell," Tom replied, biting her earlobe. "The Ministry would classify it as an Unforgivable Curse, only if they knew of its existence. It is untraceable and I just need to say three words to see its effects minutes later. Do you know what its effects are?" Virginia shook her head. "It releases your libido and you don't get tired of sex until someone casts the counter spell. In a few words, if all my followers were here, you wouldn't mind bedding them all, both men and women. Since I'm as jealous as my grandmother Agata, I won't let another man touch you. But about the women… I think that Erzsèbet wouldn't mind a threesome…"

"I would rather be dead than be involved in your perverted games, you _son of a bitch!_"

Tom slapped her hard, hissing menacingly, "DO. NOT. DARE. BESMIRTCH. MY. MOTHER! And learn to respect the dead!

"Remember: if I want something, I take it!"

Tom ended his statement by shoving her. Virginia collapsed, hiding her nudity with her clothes, as tears of anger and humiliation flowed on her cheeks.

_**A/N** I don't like writing Author's notes, but people insisted for this. Here I am, advertising Bonded, a China Doll's Yahoo Group (go in my user page to get there) : there you'll find the characters' staff, documents to help you exploring ChiDo's universe and discuss about the fic with other readers._

* * *

i A well known Italian manufactory of dolls. 


	4. Pascha Resurectionis Domini Nostri

**"China Doll"**

**Chapter fourth**

**_"Pascha Resurectionis Domini Nostri"_**

The students were having breakfast in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: as usual, the girls gossiped about Weekly Witch's latest articles, while the boys talked about last Sunday's Quiddich game. And yet, despite Easter holyday were close, there was something hovering, like a veil.  
Since when the Ministry had acknowledge the Dark Lord's return, things had gotten worse and each student was afraid to receive "the Owl": it was a tiny, black hemmed piece of parchment with which the Ministry offered its formal condolence. When such owl appeared, it was as if some one had petrified the whole Great Hall; hundreds pair of eyes followed the bird and then stared at the addressee, waiting his or her reaction.

But that day such owl hadn't appeared and the students deluded themselves everything was fine. Especially at the Slytherin table, where everyone talked about the same topic: Draco Lucius Malfoy's newborn sister. The seventh year boy proudly handed around photos, complaining that really, it was a shame his father was on the run and unable to attend at the birth –at least officially. The Slytherin girls awed at the sight of a baby wrapped in green and silver or wearing pale old rose garments and with a strawberry blonde curl peeping out of a lace bonnet.

"Do you want to give a look?" asked a fifth year girl to a nearby boy.

Blaise tightened his lips, slightly annoyed, but politely accepted the photos. "Thank you, Loveday."

"Isn't she utterly cute?" chirped Melinda Idona Zabini, leaning on her brother's arm. "What is her name?"

Loveday half snorted and half laughed. "Actually, I find it a quite weird name: Charlotte Lauryn." She sipped her pumpkin juice nonchalantly and added. "Don't get it wrong, I just don't understand why Mrs Malfoy named her own daughter after her husband's late quasi-fiancée. Besides, being she a Black, I expected a star name like Antares or Nashira…"

The younger girl looked dagger at him. "A mere homonymy, Mr Zabini, there are Blacks even among Muggles."

"Well," said Blaise handing her back the photos, "you are a Black as well and you're not named after a star."

Loveday Black was who people labelled as one of the last true Slytherins: her ambitions were so high that she considered petty her Housemates' plots to put the other students in trouble, she was clever and only her natural indolence prevented her to get the highest grades in her year. She was of average build, not too skinny and not too fatty, her hair was a cascade of reddish dark brown rebel curls, yet somewhat tidy in their curliness; her eyes were icy and heavily made-up and her lips were always covered with lip-gloss, even if the school rules forbade such vanities. Some boys thought she was alluring and mysterious, some girls said she was intractable and sour, Blaise, instead, thought she was some one to not have as enemy.

Blaise's eyes travelled in the Great Hall, lingering on a spot of red hair at the Gryffindor table: when Virginia Molly Weasley's disappearance was announced, he felt his whole world crash down.

Their relationship hadn't been easy, since it was unbelievable for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor talk urbanely, least at all being a couple: when Ron had heard about Blaise tutoring Ginny in Arithmancy, he almost forced Hermione to take "that filthy snake's place". Yet, they had been happy, even if it was for a short time, and Blaise still hoped, even if he knew all six Weasley brothers –and maybe a couple of cousins too- would be glad to beat him up. But what really incensed him, it was to know where and with whom Ginny was: it wasn't a pleasant situation, because he could do nothing but wait.

"Are you thinking about her?" whispered Melinda, putting marmalade on her toast.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only for who really knows you.

"Blaise, I know how bad you feel, but… being a member of the Confraternity has its advantage. La Grande Épousée will side with you to the Council and…"

"Our mother can do nothing against the Gray Dames," Blaise grumbled sulky, "and _he_ is one of their last living relatives, so it is obvious they will support _him_."

Melinda bit her lower lip, thinking about the Confraternity's rules and how they were fair and unfair at the same time: it would be easy tell the Weasleys about Elysian Fields and its master, it would even stop the war before it cause many deaths. Yet, there was that rule about never ever compromise a fellow Brother or Sister in the eyes of the outer world, a rule that made Blaise feel with tied hands.

The girl sighed, finding the adult world too intricate for her tastes, then she kissed her older brother and she got ready for her first class.

Virginia didn't like to wake up in Tom's bed, she would never get used to it: she hoped that that counter spell would wipe away every memory of what Tom did to her at night, of what _she_ did under that awful lust spell. Just like that time in the drawing room and Bellatrix had ran into them: she had literally leaped on the Death Eather.

She shook her head, putting a hand on her forehead: she took a deep breath and psychologically got ready to face another day at Elysian Fields.

She should have wakened up sooner that usual. A honeyed sunbeam filtered in through the half opened shudders; a rather idyllic bird singing came from the outside and another one, a ballade accompanied by running water, came from the bathroom: Virginia gave a forced laugh at the thought of Tom singing under the shower.

Virginia turned on her side, facing a window, and then she gasped: Tom's wand was within her reach.

Thanking every known and unknown divinity, she thought about taking it: it would be a child's play to catch Tom and stun… kill him. She would go back home. She would be the Wizarding world's new heroine and everybody would be happy ever after. Virginia sneered at the wizard's lack of caution; but as she stretched her arm, she heard a soft hissing and felt something cold slithering on her skin: she let out a cry at the sight of Nagini wrapped on her leg and torso, its forked tongue flickering menacingly. The girl stared afraid at the serpent, as if she was hypnotized by the way its scales reflected the sunlight. She heard a soft chuckle.

Tom was standing before his bed, with a towel around his neck and an asymmetrical smile on his lip. Then he lowered his eyes on his pet, hissing, and Virginia blushed remembering how he used to slip in Parseltongue in the height of passion: it was a sensual sound, able to arouse the most lustful thought.

"You know, Virginia," finally Tom said, "Nagini likes you: she thinks you are… pretty warm."

Virginia looked dagger at him, angry at his mocking tone and his arrogant and nonchalantly attitude, unashamed of his own nudity. And then she laughed her head off.

"What are you laughing at?" Tom asked slightly annoyed, "Did you forget I just need to say two words to kill you?"

But she was laughing so hard she was unable to reply, and then she took three deep breaths and snickered. "You… you have a… a heart-shaped strawberry birthmark!"

Tom stared blankly at her, and then he covered that embarrassing part of his body and snarled. "So, what's so amusing? A lot of people have a birthmark!"

Since his words had no effect on the girl, he took his wand and crucioed her: he watched the young witch writhing, his lips curled in a sadistic smile, then he broke the spell.

"Now that I have your attention back, go in your room and get ready: we are going to leave for Santa Eufemia at half past twelve."

Santa Eufemia was a huge estate in Catania's Plain, placed where land met sea and protected from Muggles and Etna's eruptions. The main building, a nice example of Baroque architecture, was surrounded by a huge garden and a citrus orchard, and a ruined Arabian watchtower dominated a small headland.

The climate was milder and the sudden change made Virginia feel dizzy, or it was a mere effect of using a Portkey: Tom urged her toward the main door, preventing her to admire the Mediterranean garden. It was Bianca herself to open the door and greet them: the young mistress looked as if she had come out from a seventeenth-century portrait, rigid in her black silk dress robe hemmed with fine white lace on the high neck and cuffs.

"Welcome at Santa Eufemia, Thomas. Virginia." she said nodding, then she addressed to an old woman behind her, talking in a language Virginia didn't understood.

"Well," ended Bianca letting in her guest, "lunch will be served at half past one: after all, we have to wait for Isabella."

"Hasn't her Easter holiday began?" wondered Tom, as he grabbed Virginia's arm and led her along the staircase.

Bianca shook her head, "Not yet. In the meantime you can make yourselves comfortable."

With her great repugnance, Virginia found out that she would share a chamber with Tom and she didn't liked a bit of it: the oldest of the Trao sisters was known to be rather sadistic, but that was excessive!

They waited for Bianca's sister till two o'clock and then, really angrily, the mistress ordered to serve lunch: Virginia had no little difficulty with the dishes, since the only Italian food she had ever eaten was pizza. Tom utterly ignored her, while their hostess twisted her mouth at "such deplorable lack of manner at meals". Virginia would liked to reply it wasn't her fault if no one had ever taught her how eat spaghetti, but she kept it for herself. After lunch, they had coffee in the citrus orchard: the garden's beauty was breathtaking and the air smelled with sea and orange-blossoms; the citrus trees bore fruits and flowers at the same time, looking like splashes of green punctuated with white, orange and yellow.

"The Traos are one of the most ancient and noble families in the whole Sicily," Bianca began proudly, and Tom rolled his eyes snorting. "the legend says we born from the union of a Greek wizard with a Phoenician witch: we were here, when Heraclitus talked about philosophy in Ephesus, and we were here, when Archimedes's machines defended Syracuse.

"In our family tree you will find tyrants and dictators, poets, philosophers, knights and saints, viceroys and deputies. We fought against Romans and Moors; we ate with Frederick The Second and we rode side by side with Angevines and Aragoneses: the Trao family's history _is_ Sicily's history.

"For example, my great great-mother, donna Marianna Ucr�a, was a--"

"Don't listen to Bia's nonsense, she likes to strut like a peacock whenever she can." said a crystalline voice behind them.

"Is this the time to come back home, Isabella?!" Bianca said angrily.

Isabella merely blew a raspberry to her older sister. She was a tall and skinny girl with short purplish black hair and dark brown eyes; her skin was tanned, as whom like to spend a lot of time outdoor, and she had a mole on her left cheekbone. Virginia didn't know why, but Isabella reminded her of Fred and George: same clever and mischievous look and same impudent attitude. But Isabella had something more, like a veil of wild and dangerous mystery. The newcomer sat on the grass, facing the English witch.

"And so, you're To's girlfriend…" she said teasingly, leaning her chin on her hand.

Virginia shook her head annoyed. "No I'm not!"

Isabella laughed and then winked. "If you say so…" then she shot a cheeky smile to Tom. "Hi To'! Or do you prefer I call you _Zio Compare_? By the way, I have to say that your new…" And she glanced at Virginia. "… look did you well. But I'm wondering… is that cute birthmark of yours in the same place where it was the last time I saw it?"

"Isabellina, don't play with fire, you should have learned this lesson."

The brunette laughed again, got up and said with a childish voice, bending forward and pinching his cheeks. "I know Tommiekins, but it isn't my fault if teasing you is so funny!"

"Thomas, breathe in and out, in and out." Bianca said worried, then she growled at her sister. "Isabella, stop it, you are ridiculing yourself!"

"Indeed, I think that a psychopath who studies Psychology is ridiculous." she replied with an asymmetric smile. Isabella stretched and grabbed Virginia's wrist. "Well, since we are going to spend a week or so together, it's better if we know each other: let's go in my room!"

And before Tom or Bianca could say or do something, the two girls were far.

Isabella loosened her grip only when they were inside the house. Virginia was still shocked by what she had just seen: a girl of her age, teasing the Dark Lord and getting away with it, it was… it was…

"Here we are!" Isabella said, stopping before a door with a "No Entry" sign and a list attached on. "I apology for the mess, but I don't like House elves putting their noses in my thinks, ops, things."

Isabella's room looked everything but a Dark witch's chamber: it was full of light and the minimalist furniture clashed with the Baroque architecture's pomposity. Several Muggle clothes were scattered on the floor and Virginia recognized a huge television and a laptop among the many non-magical devices: it reminded her strongly of the Burrow's garage and she felt a pang of homesickness.

"Come on, make yourself at home." Isabella said, hidden by one of her wardrobe's door. "Well, what's your name?"

Virginia looked around in embarrassment and then sat stiffly on a chair. "Gi- Virginia Molly Weasley"

"Givirginia?" muttered the other girl. "Were your parents drunk when they named you?"

"No, it's Virginia!" she replied incensed. "But everybody calls… called me Ginny."

"Then it'll be Gin, I can't stand long names. All my friends call me Isa, so don't dare to use my full name or you'll pay for it."

"Like your sister…" Virginia said gloomy.

Isabella, hands on her hips, looked angrily at her. "Do you think I am a Dark witch? Or better, do you think I am one of To's lackeys?!"

Virginia bit her lower lip, suddenly finding interesting her shoes. "W-well, you are Bianca's sister and Tom is your cousin…"

"Great!" exclaimed Isabella raising her arm. "This is just great! Listen, young lady, I am what I am and I don't care if I'm related to the Dark Lord or whatever you English people call him!

"Sure, Bia' and To' would jump with joy if I join them, but they can't force me and I have only one master: myself. And the Great Mother." Then she took a bunch of keys from her desk and threw to Virginia t-shirt and jeans. "I'm going to meet some friends of mine and I'd like you to come with me. At least in this way you'll see with your own eyes what I am."

It was a wonderful afternoon for Virginia, the first "normal" one since when the Death Eaters had kidnapped her. It was almost a shock for her –the second with in one hour and half- to find out most of Isabella's friends were Muggle, but perhaps it was that to give an appearance of normality to the afternoon: they indulged to the favourite activities of average teenagers, not caring about any distinction of Magical and Mundane -how Isabella used to call everything concerning the Muggle world- not caring about the war.

It was like a Saturday at Hogsmeade, but somewhere new: Catania was a beautiful city; so much different from London and all the places Virginia had seen. Isabella showed her all the historical places and where young people went in their spare time.

And in those three hours, the English witch thought that, maybe, there was still hope for her to live at least one day as a common sixteen year-old girl.

Tom didn't liked that Virginia spent so much time with Isabella, and Bianca didn't liked it as well: they feared that their relative's presence would have a bad influence with their prisoner. Because that was what Virginia was in their eyes: a captive to use and to subject for their aims.

Tom had taken the habit to call her "my little china doll" every time he wanted her to remember she was still alive only to satisfy his desires: it was a subtle torture, made of over-sugary words and fake smiles, and they found their apotheosis at night, when they where in their room, and sometime even at day, when both their hostesses where away. Bianca, instead, added to her good-manners' lessons, an even more subtle torture, done on a more psychological level, as if she wanted to test on the younger witch what she learned at the university. And Virginia didn't know anymore whom she hated more between the two of them.

Isabella, on the other hand, didn't liked how her sister and her cousin treated their guest and she tried to save Virginia's day as much as possible. Having a rebellious nature, she began to involve the guest in her activities, not caring of what Tom and Bianca have to say: how she did to avoid a Cruciatus Curse, it was a mystery.

"Phew," once she said to Virginia, as they were in her room doing homework, "they are to scared of what may happens if they try to force me, the aunts had took care of it a long time ago."

"The… aunts?" wondered the other girl, frowning slightly. "Weren't you and your sister Tom's only living relatives?"

Isabella laughed and shook her head. "Oh no, no. It is me, Bia', To' and the aunts. There is Mum's sister too, but I don't consider a nun among my relatives.

"The aunts are a different question: they are my great-grandfather's sisters and To's mother's cousins, and they are… well, it's hard to explain, you have to meet them.

_Minchia_, I don't have enough chestnut's bark!" the girl cursed as she read a potion's ingredients, then she stood up and winked. "Do you want to come with me? I'm taking advantage to show you the wood."

It was Good Monday and as the two girls walked along a path, Isabella explained Sicilian Easter traditions to Virginia: she didn't talked about them as some one who followed or at least respected them, her voice was flat and bored, but she seemed to have no intention to explain the reasons of her indifference. And Virginia could do nothing but think about what Easter was for the Weasleys: it wasn't a festivity as longed-for as Christmas, still it was a joy for her brothers and cousins to meet at old Aunt Cynthia's house and search eggs in that huge garden and after they had began to attend Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley had sent them Easter eggs.

They stopped beneath a huge chestnut tree and Isabella shinned up, agile and confident as if she did nothing but that in her whole life. Virginia, instead, stayed down: she sat on a rock listening to Isabella talking on and on.

"Have you done, Isa?" asked her with slight urgently voice.

"Nah," replied the other girl, from somewhere in the foliage, "why?"

"I… er… I need the toilette."

"There are so many trees around here and no one but the two of us! Or do you really think there were lavatory in Prehistory?"

Virginia gapped, blushing in embarrassment, then she looked around and searched for a discreet place: she found it under another huge chestnut tree, which lower branches almost grazed the ground forming a sort of tent. The soil was rich and strewed with dead leaves and rotten husks and there were some anonymous-looking mushrooms. Virginia frowned at them, trying to remember their name, she was more than sure to have seen an illustration of them in her Herbology or Potions school book. The mushrooms were greenish white and not fully grown, since the bigger ones' caps were half closed and some of them looked like a white egg. She picked one of them: it was odourless and tasted slightly acidulous.

"Gin, I'm done!" exclaimed Isabella, climbing down the tree.

Virginia let go the mushroom and she joined the other girl.

It was Holy Thursday's morning when something unforeseen happened. Isabella was trying to convince Tom to let Virginia go with her on Easter Monday, at a picnic she was going to go with all her friends, and Filomena, the old housekeeper, was serving them breakfast.

As soon as her eyes fell on her cup of milk and coffee, Virginia felt sick: she putted a hand on her mouth, apologized and ran out the breakfast room. They heard her cough and, if Tom and Bianca showed or dissembled indifference, Isabella stood up and stuck her head outside the room, then she whispered something to the housekeeper and sat back at the table, glancing seriously at her sister. Bianca raised an eyebrow at her younger sister's unusual expression, and then she glanced beyond the door: she stiffened at that sight. The two sisters stared at each other, the same thought bounced from eye to eye, and then they stared disgusted and offended at their cousin.

"What are you staring at?!" Tom snapped, annoyed by their unusual behaviour, "Is there something on my nose?!"

Bianca sighed, massaging her temples, and Isabella leaned back in her chair folding her harms.

"To', how could you?" the sixteen year old girl began, twisting her mouth. "It's so… disgusting."

"Outrageous is the proper word," whispered Bianca, as disgusted as her sister.

Utterly annoyed, Tom said with a dangerous voice. "Are you going to tell me what in Danu's name you are talking about?"

"What are we talking about?" Isabella snorted. "Well, I think it's quite obvious and it's your fault if you are so slow-witted."

Bianca cleared her voice, sounding more saccharine than usual. "Usually I don't poke my nose in such business but… have you ever been… er… how can I say…"

"If you had ever used a contraceptive spell or potion anytime you bedded Gin, she wouldn't be pregnant now."

At such words, Tom spat his coffee and coughed. "W-what?"

"Should I spell it for you?" said Isabella, as if she was talking to a very slow and sensitive child, "P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T."

"It couldn't be," he whispered, "it CAN be!"

"Well," said Bianca, regaining her decorum, "lately Virginia wasn't feeling well, and now she is having morning sickness."

"I am immortal!" Tom retorted angrily, "Sterility is immortality's price: I am unable to procreate!"

"To', this is real life, not a Highlander's episode!" the younger girl replied seriously.

An awkward and tense silence fell in Santa Eufemia's breakfast room, each of them thinking about the other two's words.


	5. Recovery

**.: V :.**

_**Recovery**_

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

**T**he blood, black and thick, flowed slowly into the basin from a deadly pale arm: the mediwizard frowned at the leeches in the jar, thinking how they didn't take root on the girl's body. He knew by experience that wasn't a good sign.

He healed the cut with his wand and took the basing, examining the humour mixed with water: he took some vials from his bag, pouring blood and potions in various jars and examined the reactions. He pursed his lips as some solutions turned violet. With a huge sigh he took another small vial from his bag and injected the contents in the girl's other arm.

"What's wrong with her?" asked Bianca with a tired voice.

"More dead than alive." replied the mediwizard, giving to Virginia another injection of the same medicine. "Phalloidic poisoning is one of the most difficult poisonings to cure, but both Wizarding and Muggle Medicine have their ways to save one who is poisoned. But a late phase like this…" He glanced at the sick girl. "I'm surprised she's still alive, usually there are very few hours between coma and death. The chance of recovery is slim, and we have to follow her carefully to keep her alive.

"At the moment I don't have the antidote, so I had to make do with Muggle therapy."

"M-Muggle therapy?" muttered Bianca, twisting her mouth. "You use Muggle methods too!"

"A dose of tioctid acid every three hours, fifty drops of thistle extract twice a day and a lot of water until the potion is ready." replied the mediwizard sternly, handing her a bunch of vials. "And this is the potion you asked for, one spoonful and half in a glass of water trice a day.

"I'll come back later in the afternoon. Happy Easter." The mediwizard put his belongings back in his bag and left.

Bianca looked at Virginia, her frown rivalling that of Minerva McGonagall: how the girl got her hands on those mushrooms, was a mystery. Feeling her nerves frayed, the witch gave some directions to the house elves and went away, thinking about the previous night's events.

_.: Flashback :._

_**I**t was custom of donna Matilde D'Ajetti Trao to pay a visit to her sister on Holy Saturday and then attend Easter Vigil's Mass at Catania's Convent's church. After her mother's death, Bianca insisted on doing so, mostly because it was very hard convince her sister and cousin to pay a visit to their aunt nun, Sister Maria Rosaria, a witch who had refused her own magical origins –"It is the Devil who acts through us!" she used to moralize- and lived to fanatically eradicate "such sacrileges" from the world. Maybe that was why both Tom and Isabella thought so little of her._

_But in the end, Bianca dragged the three of them there._

"_I don't like it," said Tom, looking daggers at the sculpted puttos, "it reminds me of Sister Rita."_

"_Who, the nun that used to beat you with a rosary?" whispered Isabella. "By the way, if you ask me, I think it is a bit hypocritical of Bia'._

"_I mean, mammà was mad and Aunt Sister Maria turned her into a fanatic like her. But Bia'… I wonder if she tells to her confessor about all the people she kills and tortures…"_

_Bianca hushed them testily, her features twisted into a severe frown. Tom and Isabella glanced at each other, sighing deeply and shaking their heads._

_Virginia stood all by herself, as if her mind belonged somewhere else: she felt something inside her rising, but it wasn't fever or nausea, she just couldn't name it. And so she stood, as if she was once again a soulless shell: as the Mass went on, she felt more and more tired and sleepy._

"_It is a real bore, isn't it?" whispered Isabella to her, leaning slightly on a side._

_Virginia merely nodded, wiping away the sweat from her forehead: she heard the choir sing a hallelujah, but she wasn't really listening, and then the priest invoking the divine mercy upon the world, and then she looked without see the priest raising the Host and then… and then… With a quick movement, Tom grabbed Virginia's arm before she collapsed on the floor._

"_Virginia," he hissed, looking daggers at the people who where glancing at them, "Virginia, this isn't the time to fall asleep!"_

"_Leave her sleep, poor dear." Isabella whispered as she helped her cousin to settle Virginia on the bench._

"_What did you expect? Should I remind you _why_ she isn't well?"_

"_Will you shut up?" Bianca said finally, "Everybody is staring at us!"_

_With a huge sigh, Isabella rolled her eyes and sat at Virginia's side. Tom also sat, feeling as if there was a huge rock in his stomach._

_.: End flashback :._

**W**hen Bianca entered the guestroom, Isabella was wiping Tom's forehead with a wet cloth: the two sisters exchanged a glance and then Bianca sat at Tom's side.

"Are Gin and the baby fine?" whispered Isabella with a significant look.

"There is no baby."

"Thank Danu!" "What!" said Tom and Isabella at the same time.

Bianca massaged her temples and said with a huge sigh. "There is no baby. Virginia isn't pregnant.

"But… I suppose it would have been better if that was the reason of her sickness."

"What do you mean?" asked Tom with an angry frown, throwing away the cloth.

"She has poisoned herself. Doctor Anselmi said it is a miracle that she's still alive. You don't get over such mushrooms so easily. It will be quite difficult and there are very few chances to save her, and even if we would be able to do it, the recovery would be long."

Tom snorted, caressing Nagini's head, "she's stronger than what she seems. she got over the diary's possession quite well, but can we trust that mediwizard?" he asked suspiciously.

"He is used to curing… particular patients," Bianca said, and then a wicked smile curled her lips, "and he know what happens to those who dare to get Bianca Maria Immacolata Trao on their bad side."

"What a surprise," Isabella snorted folding her arms. "Did he see the corpse of that guy who stole your uni's notes?"

"We are having fun all by ourselves, are we, Bianca?" he said teasingly, a grin on his face.

Bianca tsked and rearranged herself on her chair. "Take this potion, Thomas, it will help your stomach."

"Are you suffering the Red Cross nurse's complex?" Tom snorted sarcastically, but Bianca ignored him. "Isabella, will you make yourself useful and go look in on Virginia?"

"Why me? There are at least four house elves in her bedroom!"

"GO. GIVE. A. LOOK. TO. VIRGINIA!" Bianca repeated with a voice that didn't accept protests.

Quite unwillingly, Isabella got up and went away snorting and grumbling.

Once alone, Bianca drew closer her chair to Tom's bed: she was about to say something, but she frowned, took her wand and cast a silencing charm at the whole room. Tom raised an eyebrow, surprised by that behaviour: Bianca was a very secretive woman, who didn't like to talk about certain things in an improper place but in her own house she didn't needed such precautions.

"Why are you so distressed?"

"You mean 'why were you so distressed', Bianca." Tom replied sitting against the bed's headboard. "It is obvious: for almost a whole week we thought Virginia was pregnant and… well, it would be the proof that I'm not anymore immortal."

"And you were afraid to be a disapointment as a father like…"

"No, I'm not!" He flew into a rage. "And most of all, I'm not like… like… like that monster.

"I just… I'm immortal, I can't and I don't need to have an heir. And supposing that I was able, where and how would I find the time to take care of a child? Bianca, you know better than the others what I think about such things."

"Yes, I do.

"But now that we know she isn't pregnant, you are still distressed. I can feel it."

"It's just this stomach-ache," he replied rolling his eyes, "and Virginia acting as if her life still belonged to her? She is mine; I have the right of life and death for her! How could I not feel distressed if what belong to me acts as if it doesn't have a master?"

Bianca sighed in defeat, "That isn't what's the matter. I… I don't know what is happening to you, and I think that not even you know what's going on." Tom opened his mouth to reply, but Bianca silenced him. "No, listen: Erzsébet has told me that you didn't visit her or one of her girls since when you gave Virginia her soul back, and also the others had noticed you are changing."

"Nonsense! Tell me, am I going around acting like the Good Samaritan? Am I wearing flowery robes and talking about peace and love? Did I dressed up as Father Christmas and handed out toys to little Mudbloods? No, I'm keeping my plans, keeping to the path I chose. If I don't have enough time, or if Erzsébet is jealous, that isn't my fault."

Bianca opened her mouth to reply, but right then Filomena entered the room carrying some coffee: the two cousins took their cups; Tom winced as the scorching liquid reached his stomach. They didn't say anything for long minutes and Bianca looked outside: the late morning sun shone on the sparkling sea and candy floss-like clouds sailed in the sapphire blue sky. It was as if the whole of nature cheered the Saviour's Resurrection, unaware –or ignoring- the events of Santa Eufemia.

"Do you remember what I told you about you having sex with Virginia?" Bianca asked in the end.

Tom raised an eyebrow, "are you still bothering me with that story?"

"A couple of days ago, I received an owl from the aunts."

"Well, it's about time! Why are you waiting to reply? We performed the Psychesyllego Spell."

She sighed and decided to ignore that last remark. "They didn't say too much, but I'm afraid I am right.

As I told you then, in certain circumstances, sex could be a powerful magic. Meaning, some witches still use it to cast a primitive and untraceable version of Imperius Curse, like the one Mrs Edna cast on her husband during the First War. That isn't yours and Virginia's case, of course," Bianca hastened to say, "but since the two of you had shared a part of your souls and sin"

"We has parted my soul from hers, you were there."

"Y-yes, I know, but once two souls are merged, they couldn't be parted! You can purify a merged soul as much as possible, but there always, ALWAYS remains the littlest amount of the other soul in it." Bianca got up and began to walk back and fro frantically. "And in your case this isn't a good thing, these are bonds that not even death is able to break.

"Actually, I'm not still sure if there is a bond between you and Virginia, but I know you enough to say that you wouldn't like it if there were. And your being worried and distressed and sick as she is laying there, between life and death, it makes me fear the worst."

"You're paranoid," Tom said trying to sound indifferent, "and I'm not bonded to her in any way: I can kill her whenever I want, I can kick her out of my life whenever I like."

"So why don't you let her die right now? Why are you so pissed off at her for trying to kill herself? It isn't the first time: she cut her wrist, hung herself with the curtains from her room, drowned herself in the tub and I can list you at least another half dozen of episodes. And you always managed to save the day."

With a quick movement, Tom took out his wand and pointed it at Bianca. "Don't you dare to talk to me with that tone, woman. Don't try my patience!" he screamed, rage pulsing in his veins. "This is the last time I will allow you to talk about such nonsense. The next time I will hex you before you can open your mouth. You are warned! There is no bond. There is nothing! Virginia is just another one from whom I take pleasure. She isn't so different from Igraine or Drusilla or What-in-the-Hell-their-names-were! She is going to recover, and then… then I'll decide what to do with her!"

Bianca looked at him, then she closed her eyes and said, "If you want to keep on deluding yourself, you're welcome." And she closed the door behind her before the curse hit her.

**I**sabella was sitting on Virginia's bed's edge, looking thoughtfully at her: there were just the two of them in the room; the ferruginous smell of blood wafted in the air. The young witch closed her eyes, tuning a singsong known to her alone: she focused on the other girl, penetrating into her mind. And Isabella saw.

She saw a neglected garden, where gnomes watched a little girl dancing under the summer sun.

She saw a not so nice-looking birthday cake and the girl ripping a parcel, finding inside a not so nice-looking but brand-new doll.

She saw a huge Christmas tree in a great and richly decorated hall and the little girl, this time a bit older, being laughed at because her dress was made out of one of her mother's old skirts.

She saw the joy of attending Hogwarts: the happiness of the first journey to school, the pride to be sorted into the family's House.

She saw a possession, slithering in the girl's life like a serpent, a wolf in sheep's clothing, like a growing darkness that slowly swallowed the girl's light and joy and life.

She saw the girl, whose arm and legs and voice were tied to a dark shadow's fingers, moving her like a puppet.

She saw a beam of light, shining in manly eyes and the brightest and the purest was tinged of amethyst –and Isabella was surprised to know the owner's name of those eyes.

She saw once again darkness, scary and pitch-black and now desert and now alive with daemons and monsters.

Isabella saw memories of the past and fears of the future, seeking something or somebody.

And in the end, Isabella found what she was seeking, tied to the thin-growing threads of life and sanity and she was happy to not see the Lady; but as Isabella stretched her hand to touch it, she felt being draw back and her lungs as if filled with icy clear water.

She coughed blood as she regained her grip on reality and catalepsy slowly left her body. Blocking her mouth and nose with her t-shirt's sleeve, Isabella looked pensively at Virginia.

"Well, I can't say I liked what I have just seen," she said with a slightly nasal voice, "but at least not everything is lost."

.: ° :.

**T**iny bits of conscience fluttered around Virginai, setting themselves in what seemed like a mosaic or a stained-glass window. Slowly, the darkness faded and a pearl of light, like a little moon, took shape in front of her: Virginia winced slightly at the sudden light, but the she stretched her hand to that pulsing luminous sphere. She felt as if some one had just cast Wingardium Leviosa on her and she wavered into space: she was like in deep water, and she could see the rippled surface above her. Virginia smiled to herself as she swam upward.

Virginia blinked several time to adjust her eyes to the sunlight: at first everything was blurred and she was unable to recognize her surrounding.

"How are you feeling, dear?" asked an unknown feminine voice.

Virginia frowned, as her sight focused: she was still at Santa Eufemia, but in a different bedroom and the windows turned on the Etna instead of the sea. A strange smell, like burned herbs, reached her nostrils. She winced as the unknown woman pointed her wand to the girl's eyes to check them.

"It seems you are fairly well, for someone who has just awakened from a coma.

"My name is Galene, and I had been asked to follow your recovery."

Virginia opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out of her.

Galene laid a cool hand on the girl's neck, checking her pulse. "Don't strain yourself, you are still weak."

The mediwitch rubbed some weird smelling oils on Virginia temples and wrists. She didn't looked at all like Madam Pomfrey or the people working at St. Mungus: she wore a multilayered robe of a fine fabric, and it was white with a saffron yellow and bright orange band along the hems; her braided greying hair were held by elaborated wooden combs. Galene was a woman in her early fifties, petite, with greenish eyes and time-spotted skin and she had a good-natured appearance.

The older woman was burning some bitter smelling herbs when Isabella appeared at the door: she talked briefly with the mediwitch, who went outside leaving the two girls alone.

Isabella sat cross-legged on Virginia's bed, a smug smile on her face.

"And so you are back among the living…" she began, "you gave us a nice fright, you know? Ok, it's updating time.

"You had been in coma for five days, wasting Easter Holydays –and I have to thank you for this. To' is pissed off because you tried to kill yourself, Bia' is pissed off because the Aunts have sent Galene to look after you and she doesn't like them meddling with her business and I'm pissed off because my friends' short film has been rejected. What else? Yes, your recovery is going to be long and maybe you are going to bear the signs for the rest of you life," Isabella said without drawing breath.

Virginia merely blinked, still not feeling like uttering a word. The other girl frowned slightly and then took a magazine from her bag.

"Do you want to know what is happening in this sad sick world?" she asked, showing the headlines to the girl. "To's just being his usual sadistic and insane self: attacking Mundane villages… killing people… look here, that rat of Wormtail has killed himself a couple of days ago: no one knows how he cut his wrists, usually Azkaban's prisoners barely have a mouldy robe.

"Weird Sisters in concert… assignments of medals and stuff… phew, the usual bullshit.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that there is no news about my cousin being a nominee for Saint Peter's throne, it is a shame, he would be a great pope," she said seriously, but then she burst out laughing.

Virginia looked at her, as a weak smile curved her lips: that gesture seemed to have a weird effect on Isabella, who muttered something to herself and grinned wider, looking even more smug.

.: ° :.

**T**he White Lilies' looked like a common boarding house: it was a refined building of a Diagon Alley's side street and the façade was made of plain stone. But everyone knew about what was behind that heavy door, what truly was behind that sign bearing three pure with lilies: precious marbles a tapestries of silk and velvet, fine stuccos and frescos. And the intoxicating smell of classy lust and expensive sex.

If a rich wizard, descendant of an ancient Pureblood family, desired to desert for a while his house's tedium, there he would find a gambling table, a bottle of the better wine and a company ready to tap him for until the last Knut. If a respectable matron craved to escape her marital life's monotony, all she had to do was cast a glamour charm on herself and there would be a young lover waiting for her with spread arms. There was nothing that The White Lilies' couldn't offer, if you were able to pay, and gold wasn't the only way to pay your debts. And Erzsèbet Bàthory knew how get herself paid: sometimes there was confidential information –because she had taught her girls quite well how make a man confess his deepest secrets- and sometimes there were… other things.

The Maîtresse was leaning on the ebony banisters, watching the people milling in the main hall: her dark eyes followed the guests and the girls, lingering now on a woman loosing all her possessions and now on a corpulent old man flirting with one of the youngest whores.

"Look there, Mrs Malfoy is back," she said tilting her head and sneering. "She forgot to take her potion last time, and now Malfoy Manor rejoices in a little bastard toddling through its hallways."

Tom leaned on the banister too, looking at the hall, "Where? I don't see her."

"Near the Moor's statue, that brown-haired witch in wisteria pink: she is deluding herself if she thinks that a glamour charm is enough to deceive me.

"I'm glad you are back, Malvolo," she said, fluttering her lashes at him.

But he didn't look at her, neither replied. Tom was thinking about the first time he had met the half vampire woman and how she had refused to call him Lord Voldemort.

"_It is an ugly name, and you are so handsome. I'll call you with your middle name, Marvolo. No, for me you'll be Malvolo, _I want evil._"_

It had happened few weeks before he killed the man who was his father for a twist of fate. Erzsèbet was one of his first and most faithful followers and maybe the closest thing to a real friend.

"The auction is about to begin," she said to him, her deadly pale hand held his spidery one, "are you going to take part in it? Today's merchandise is very interesting."

Tom nodded as he let the woman lead him downstairs: they sat at the furthest table and the shadows hid them. Several dark and precious items were shown. The offerings were high.

"Nymphadora Tonks." whispered Erzsèbet as the auctioneer extolled a grim-looking box.

Tom raised an eyebrow, "Isn't she Bella's Mudblood niece?"

"A real shame, but there is a black sheep even in the most respectable families.

"She is a member of the Order of the Phoenix and very close to Dumbledore, just like that… dear Circe, I don't remember his name and it makes me feel old! Oh, yes, Elphias Doge, that's the name.

"By the way, if we get our hands on her, we could destroy them from the inside."

"Interesting," Tom replied, as a witch knocked down an innocent-looking handkerchief, "but I want to hear from our spies first. Are you sure about the information's reliability?"

Erzsèbet nodded, and the she clicked her tongue, "Ah, the evening's highlight!"

The auctioneer was holding the hand of a rather young girl, wearing nothing but a very thin and transparent organza dress and a lace mask on her face: she looked uncomfortable, as if she was wondering what took her in that place. The reserve price was high and the bids even higher. The bystanders gasped as a man bid five hundreds galleons.

"Who is she?" asked Tom staring intensely at the girl.

"Celine MacRaylle, sixteen, former Hufflepuff student. She ran away from home because she doesn't like the man she was supposed to marry: what a fool, she doesn't know she went out of the frying pan into the fire."

"That's illegal, Madam Bàthory." Tom teased her.

Erzsèbet shrugged and replied, "It is not the only illegal thing at The White Lilies.

"It's just her first time to be on auction, not her whole life, and you know how hard is to find a Pureblood virgin witch today."

"I know; it isn't like fifty years ago." He nodded, raising his hand.

"Seven hundreds and sixty-two Galleons!" yelled the auctioneer. "Seven hundreds and sixty-two and one, seven hundreds and sixty-two and two, seven hundreds and sixty-two and three! Gone to the black-haired man sitting at the back!"

Tom kissed Erzsèbet's knuckles. "Excuse me, but I have to introduce a fair maiden into adulthood."

The Maîtresse nodded in approval and watched him as he went upstairs, in the chamber usually reserved to him. She leaned on her chair, sipping a blood red wine from an elaborated crystal glass: Erzsèbet felt relieved, because it seemed Tom was his usual self. She shook her head and chuckled, thinking about Bianca's paranoias: the idea that Tom could be bonded to that Weasley girl was ludicrous, if he used to spend more time with her than any other girl, it was merely because she was handy and wasn't a leftover.

Erzsèbet smiled to herself, knowing that it was just a matter of time: soon or later Tom would get tired of Virginia and then she would be three feet below the ground

.: ° :.

**F**or the first three weeks, Galene didn't leave her patient's side, and Virginia felt thankful toward her: the mediwitch's presence was like a deterrent for Tom, who had visited her only twice since when she had woken up. Bianca showed up merely because of her host duty and her dislike for Galene was clear in her voice and face.

Isabella was the only other steady presence in Virginia's chamber: after school, and often doing her homework, she sat on the other girl's bed and talked and talked and talked. Sometimes she talked about Italian wizarding school and their rivalry, other times about her classes and what happened at her school; and other times else, Isabella lingered in her own memories, telling Virginia about the most funny anecdotes of her life.

Maybe it was that, maybe it was Galene's care, but a month after her awakening, Virginia had regained ther speech and the mastery of her own body. Sure, she was still unable to take a long walk on Etna's slopes or fly on a broomstick, and she still had to take a lot of potions and medical herbs, but in those weeks Virginia proved once again to have a strong life force.

.: ° :.

**I**t was a nice Sunday afternoon and Isabella was lying on her back on Virginia's bed: previously that day, she had violently fought with her sister, and now was complaining about that.

"It's quite a shame that To' isn't here: with him I almost get everything I want."

"I don't think Tom would… become a saint hermit and… lead a life of… of penance and prayer just be… because you asked him," Virginia replied slowly, struggling on the words.

"Well, no," admitted Isabella, turning on her stomach and putting her elbows on the mattress, "but usually, if I ask him to buy me something, he do it. And Bia's says he spoils me. Actually, he indulges me just because he thinks that way I'll side with him. Ah, delusional! And if he doesn't want to indulge me, all I have to do is using my ace in my sleeve." She put her hand under her shirt and pulled out a little photo. "You don't know how many time I have blackmailed him with this one."

Virginia smiled broadly and giggled, "His birthmark… I wonder what would happen if… Rita Skeeter would get her claws on… on this photo…"

"Well, no one would be able to take him seriously, since then he would be He-Who-Has-A-Heart-Shaped-Strawberry-Birthmark!"

The both of them burst out laughing very hard.

_.: Flashback :._

_Isabella was standing before her cheval mirror, frowning slightly at her reflection: she wasn't very happy with her appearance, mostly because she wasn't used to wearing robes and dresses. With a huge sigh, she smoothed her skirt's fabric and struggled with her robe's high neck._

"_Dear Danu, I look like a mini Bianca," she muttered twisting her mouth._

_Isabella brushed her long, dark brown hair and in the meanwhile she thought about what soon should happen at Santa Eufemia: that same morning, Bianca had told her about their cousin's arrival for the evening. When she had heard this news, Isabella had felt… weird: she was going to meet her only male living relative, her own godfather, and –most of all- the most feared wizard of modern age. A brief apathy and then a strange feeling of joy and expectation had soon followed the feeling of surprise: she wasn't scared, because she was beyond fear._

_Isabella looked once again at her reflection, and then she smiled as she glanced at the photos atop her desk: one of them showed her grandfather with an handsome young man at his side, both of them looked in their middle twenties._

"_I wonder how you look now," Isabella said to the photo, "I just hope you are like a good wine or Sean Connery: the older, the better."_

_She sighed as her eyes ran on her family's effigies: how many of them had she met? Just her three aunts who weren't exactly her aunts, but they had raised her. Her mother had died a few days after she was back at Santa Eufemia, and her older sister didn't care to hide what she actually thought of her. And now, she was going to meet Tom._

_A House Elf popped in the room, announcing Lord Voldemort's arrival: at once, Isabella dashed out of her bedroom and then through the hallways and down the stairs. But when she reached entrance, she stopped short and frowned at who and what was waiting for her: Bianca was standing nearby the drawing room's door, looking smug and dashing; a rat-like man with a silver hand, instead, crawled behind what looked like a kind of ugly, slimy and greenish snake-man with a serpent at his feet._

"_Where is our cousin, Bianca?" she asked, looking at her sister._

_Bianca glanced at the snake-man, who answered in her place. "I am, Isabellina."_

_The girl narrowed her eyes and tossed her hair back, snorting. "You? Please, it's… ludicrous! Bianca told me a lot about Tom, she has described him I don't remember how many time. Besides, I've got photos of him too."_

"_What if I have aged badly?" he replied, a sneer curling the corner of his lipless mouth._

"That_ isn't aging badly. Now, either Bianca lied to me or you are an impostor."_

_At these words, Bianca gasped outraged, "I'm not a liar, and should I remember you that our cousin has spent the last thirteen years as a spirit?"_

_Isabella folded her arms and childishly turned on her heels. "I'm not going to waste my time with someone who couldn't prove to be my godfather."_

"_You are a little impudent girl," the snake-man hissed dangerously._

"_Actually, I'm a little savage who is unable to make out a dinner fork from a dessert fork, am I not, Bianca?_

"_Still, if you prove me that you are Tom indeed, I'll treat you appropriately."_

_The Dark Lord's laugh was high and chilling and at that sound Bianca's eyes popped out, glancing terrified from him to her sister and back. "Isabella, act civilly for once "_

"_No, Bianca, let her talk," he said pretentiously, "let's hear what this fool of a sister you have has to say."_

_Isabella turned again, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her right foot, looking as dangerous as the Dark Lord, and then she raised an eyebrow._

"_Now I'm a fool too, am I not? Well, you have to be more imaginative if you want to humble me." _

_She climbed down the stairs, walking toward the Dark Lord with the most innocent look on her face._

"_But I don't ask much, if you want to prove me you are my cousin, you just have to show me a little thing."_

_A thought germinated in the Dark Lord's mind, a thought that made him feel uneasy: Salazar's Shame, which had marked the wizard and his descendants. Lord Voldermort stared at Isabella, as she gingerly approached him with that clearly fake innocent look on her face. _

"_Indeed?" he said._

_The young girl nodded, shortening even more the distance between them. "Show me that little, cute birthmark of yours: if you really are Tom, you shouldn't look so afraid…"_

"_Afraid? Me? Don't push your luck, girl!"_

_Isabella grinned and with feline grace she was on him. The sudden brawl sent the Dark Lord on the floor; Bianca gasped placing both her hands on her mouth; Wormtail gapped like a fish out of water and Isabella stood triumphantly atop the snake-man: grinning broadly, she grabbed his robe's edge and exclaimed, "It's time to unmask this fraud!"_

_.: End flashback :._

"… I was so disappointed when I saw that birthmark!" Isabella snickered, spread-eagled on the bed.

Virginia giggled slightly, feeling somewhat sympathetic towards Tom. "You are lucky… he didn't curse you…"

"Oh, he tried, a first-rate Cruciatus Curse! But I was faster and the spell hit that Wormtail guy.

"It was then that I understood how much far I could go with him: as long as I have that photo and keep my guard high, I can ask him almost everything.

"Did I tell you about that time when To'…"

Virginia felt thankful toward Isabella, who not only kept her company but also gave her something to laugh at: it wasn't that much, but it helped her to bear both the misery in her life and the homesickness. As she listened at Isabella talking on and on and on, Virginia wondered about Fred and George and their joke shop, and then about her parents and her brother, and her schoolmates at Hogwarts. She closed her eyes, to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes, as she wondered if one day she would be once again with her loved ones.

.: ° :.

**T**he rain poured down in the night, its harmoniously monotonous sound wasn't enough to cover the noise coming from The White Lilies' hall. Tom poured some ruby port in a glass, slightly twirling the crystal goblet: he sat on an armchair and slowly sipped the wine. He pursed his lips and then glanced at the bed: a milk-and-coffee skinned girl was sleeping among messy sheets, where the body humours' smell still lingered.

Tom leaned on the armchair: it hadn't been a bad night, first there had been a meeting to plan an attack at Richmond and then Erzsèbet had got a "bed-warmer" for him. He tsked and his lips twitched in an asymmetric smile, but then an unpleasant feeling bugged him, again.

Tom didn't like feelings; they made him feel weak, and human. Nevertheless he was unable to shut out feelings from his life: his power hunger, his hatred toward the world and that craving, deep and chronic, for something he couldn't point out. Feeling restless, he got up and reached the window, staring at the city wrapped by night and rain. The girl slept quietly in the bed, her brown hair spread around her head like a dark halo.

Virginia, instead –Tom said to himself- slept like a little bird, as if she didn't breathe, she turned and tossed, whispering and moaning to her dreams and nightmares, and her body was sweetly warm, as once Nagini pointed him out.

Twisting his mouth, Tom threw the glass against the opposite wall. It broke leaving a splattered stain on the wallpaper: why was he thinking about that little, infuriating girl, a blood-traitor? Why couldn't he stop thinking of the possibility a bond between them? Hoping to find distraction, Tom turned on the wireless.

… _You are blind and don't see_

_Your love for me and mine for you_

_You don't see kismet's red yarn_

_Tying our souls like one_

_A bond so strong it hurts_

_And one day you'll open your eyes_

_And you'll see your love for me and mine for you_

_You will see kismet's red yarn_

_Tying our souls like one._

_You may come whenever you want_

_You may take whatever you like_

_And then you may leave me laying here_

_Like a puppet with broken threads_

_Like a broken porcelain doll._

_You may say love is for the weak_

_You may say lust is for the sinner_

_And then you may leave me laying here_

_Like a puppet with broken threads_

_Like a broken porcelain doll_

_And then you may leave me laying here_

_Like a puppet with broken threads_

_Like a broken porcelain doll._

A woman's voice sang softly, husky and passionate, accompanied by bows and a piano.

"You have heard _Bonded_," said the host, "the last song Ben Jadassohn wrote for Marlene.

"I remind you, gentle audience, we are broadcasting _Remembering Marlene_, in occasion of the twentieth anniversary of Miss Lestrange's death."

"And her involvement in support of the Anti-Death Eaters Movement during the first war: we do miss women like her," added another host, this time a woman. "Now we'll send on the air Marlene's interview after Mr Jasassohn's assas-"

At those words, Tom tuned the wireless off; he just didn't felt like listening to what dead people –people that had been killed on his orders- thought about him. And he blamed Fate, because everything seemed to haunt him with Virginia, with that damned bond. He placed his head on his hands: it was almost a visceral need, to have Virginia close, to feel her tremble with passion –even if spell induced- beneath him. And it seemed that no other woman would made him experience those same sensation.

Tom looked at his reflection in the mirror.

"Stop it, old man, or you'll get it into your head," he said to himself.

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

Here I am, resuming the post A/N habit. Yeah, just like at the very beginning of ChiDo, when I used to reply to every review.

First of all, all hail to Lady Lestrange, my beta, for her hard working and her bearing an author as dumb as me. And we have to thank her if I don't have to re-write chapter 06 all over again. Why? Because viruses have had a party in my pc a couple of weeks ago and I lost everything I wrote between February 2nd and 10th, now I'm printing the chapters and saving them on a floppy. Yeah, I know you don't care a damn of that ;-P

Now, do you know how many review got the previous version? They were 36 till chapter 4th –yes, I've saved them before delete the story, if you are wondering- which is an arithmetic mean of 9 reviews per chapter. Why all this math? –And I assure you Math and I are not even on speaking terms! - Because I want ChiDo to have again that mean once again. I know that some of you had read the previous version, but without you telling me what's ok and what's not, I'm unable to improve the plot.

And I remind you to read "Guilty", my Waiting-chap-6th fic: I care a lot of that pure romance story, maybe even more than this one –just like everything about the August Mother.

On a lighter note, I'm thinking about opening a RP set in the Founders' time: if you are interested to know more or join and play, there is a tread in Rowena's Library, my forum, which link is my homepage in my profile.

cia cia :-


	6. Consolatio ad filium

(…) _And then Teleute will dance_

_The desired light, loved and bitter_

_Will be her companion:_

_In the time of double chaos,_

_In the three threes year._

_Light or Dark, born from Love_

_Pain or Joy will pour on the Earth_

_When Teleute will dance with_

_Who is born in the night of Imbolc_ (…)

Santa Eufemia, January 9th, 1905

**.: VI :.**

**Consolatio ad filium**

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

**I**t was a warm late May morning and a strange tension hung on Santa Eufemia: that day, both Bianca and Isabella had tests and the two hostesses looked tense. Or rather, Bianca hid quite well her pre-exam tension, while Isabella was crestfallen: she had bags under her eyes and a glazed look.

"Why do we have to be tested in History of Magic?" she muttered, mostly to herself. "Why does Professor Bini discuss politics instead of teaching and then give us tests about stuff he never even explained!"

"Isabella, don't play with your food," Bianca said pursing her lips, but Isabella didn't care.

Virginia was uneasy and stared from Bianca to Isabella and back. Tom hadn't come back yet. On one hand she was glad to be left alone, but on the other… she didn't know why, but she felt as if she was missing something –or somebody. At first she thought she was just homesick, and she indeed missed all her brothers and friends, and yet there was that tiny, hissing voice telling her that she was missing something else: what, she didn't know.

With an exasperated sigh, Virginia looked at the bright blue sky, a perfect weather to play Quiddich. Was it, what she was missing? The adrenalin pulsing in her veins, the euphoria of victory, the competition and the wind blowing wildly around her? Virginia wondered if they would let her ride a broomstick.

They won't, that tiny and hissing voice whispered in her mind, they are afraid you may run away.

Virginia closed her eyes as she drank a cup of coffee: at the worst, she would just fly as high as possible and then let herself fall into the sea.

"… Are you dumb, Virginia!" Bianca hissed, tightening her cutlery so much that her knuckles were white.

"Pardon?"

"I was saying –and I hate repeat myself," replied the older witch dangerously slow, "that today any kind of fun is forbidden: no pillow fight, no going out with filthy Muggles, no…"

"Quite an interesting way to celebrate To's birthday," muttered Isabella.

"Today is Tom's birthday?" asked Virginia: she didn't know that and in her first year she had often wondered why that topic was taboo. She remembered that time when she had asked Tom about his best birthday party: his reply was angry and his handwriting looked as if he was trembling with rage or something, and after that day she hadn't questioned him anymore.

.: ° :.

**A**fter Bianca and Isabella left, Virginia was alone with Galene and Nagini. Well, there was also a… Virginia didn't know if it was a Death Eater under an Invisibility Cloak or something else, she just knew, or rather, she sensed that there was a third guard: sometimes she heard the pulsing of his heart or the rustle of his robe, but there was no further evidence of his presence.

Galene spent the whole morning helping Virginia to settle her magical equilibrium.

"What most of Healers and Mediwizards ignore," explained the older witch as they were kneeling under a lemon tree, "is the importance of magical equilibrium in recovery.

"That's modern Mediwitchery's greatest flaw: they work on the maladies, which isn't bad, but you can't heal completely if you don't work on your magical equilibrium.

"Well, your case is pretty tricky, Amanita Phalloides's poisoning leaves scars both in your body and magical strength, you'll have the scars for your whole life."

"I have never read about that," said Virginia, feeling a wave of sadness rising in her heart, like high tide, "I mean, about the magical equilibrium and stuff, it sound a lot like Muggle Chinese medicine."

The older witch smiled. "That is because all books about it are lost or uudecoded, and the actual Magistri Linguorum have too much to work on. Besides Profanes think these are bedtime stories," Galene said sighing and shaking her head.

Virginia wanted to ask her more, since she wanted to be a Mediwitch –and she would, if only she wasn't Tom's little toy, she said to herself- but she was feeling even more sad, or rather, she felt sorrow and she didn't know why. Then an image appeared before her mental eye: her mother… her mother was dying, slowly and painful.

Was it a vision? No, she wasn't a Seer and as long as she knew, there had never been Seers among both the Weasleys and the Prewets. The dams of her eyes opened and tears flowed on her cheeks: she crouched on the grass, filled with a great sorrow, feeling as if her mother was dead.

Galene stared at the mourning girl, puzzled at then beginning and then she held her comforting. She patted her back and caressed her hair. "Don't worry," she told her softly, "you are crying for who can't."

Virginia didn't understand what the Mediwitch meant, but somewhat she knew Galene was right.

°-

**T**he day passed quietly, even if that feeling of sorrow –that feeling as if her mother was dying- didn't leave Virginia. In the afternoon some of Isabella's schoolmates went, because they had to work on a project: Virginia refused to meet them, she just wanted to stay in a nice bed and not see anyone.

The three witches had a silent dinner; none of them was in the right mood for a chat. As dessert was served, Bianca ordered to her governess to turn on the wireless.

" -tuation is tragic here," said a woman's voice, "the whole Saint Apollinaire Medical Institute had been levelled and the Aurors are trying to save as many people as possible."

"What about the Death Eaters, Dawn?" asked a man, who Virginia recognized as a well-known journalist. "Did the Aurors catch them?"

"No, Alfred, but this attack shows how merciless and cruel He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers are: first they have infiltrated the main building and then they killed mediwizards and patients. Luckily the Aurors have intervened at once and they have been able to save most of the people.

"It… it isn't a nice view, they not even spared the obstetrics ward as they used to do and- Mr Kingsley! Mr Kingsley! What do you think about this change of"

"It means that whoever has done that," muttered Bianca, face paled, as she turned off the wireless, "has a black hole instead of a half-working neuron!

"You two, go straight to bed," she ended accioing her Death Eater attire.

"Where are you going?" asked Isabella, looking everything but sleepy and keen to obey.

"Not for the world would I miss Thomas dealing with those callous idiots!"

Once Bianca was gone, Isabella tried to involve Virginia in a card game, but the other girl refused saying that she felt too tired and she went to bed.

But Virginia couldn't sleep, it was as if her whole being was in turmoil: after a lot of tossing and turning in her bed, she sat against the headboard and looked at the table clock. It was almost midnight and she decided that maybe a little reading would help her to sleep. Virginia reached the bookshelf and took the most boring book, it was about Goblins Revolts and she hoped that it was as soporiferous as Professor Binns: she sat on the little couch near the window and she began to read. Twice her head dropped and trice she yawned before sleep came over her.

**BANG**!

**V**irginia awoke with a start and the book fell from her lap: it was two in the morning. Some one was walking back and forth and muttering under his breath.

Tom had never been angrier and Virginia didn't dared to say or do anything, fearing a Cruciatus Curse or worse, an Avada Kedavra.

"How did they dare!" Tom whispered to himself. "What I have done to be surrounded by such brainless idiots? Even a flubberworm has more sense than them!

"If I put my hands on that genius, he would BEG to be killed! All the Lower Ranks need to be punished, they are not even able to execute a simple order like that!"

Virginia opened her mouth, but she said nothing. "Tom?" she ventured.

He glanced at her, looking distraught: she felt as if a clawed hand gripped her heart as she stared into his eyes, which the moonlight turned into amber. Tom merely stared back at her, as if he wanted to ask her for something, but before Virginia could understand what, he went closer the French window and turned his eyes on Orion's Belt.

Virginia bit her lower lip, looking worried at his back. "What happened?"

He didn't reply and his left hand held spasmodically the curtain.

Thinking that she wouldn't get a reply, Virginia took the book, put it back in the shelf and went to bed.

"Do you think it's right to have fun in the anniversary of a dear one's death?" Tom whispered suddenly. "Do you think it's right to not respect a dead one's memory?

"I… I care for my mother's memory; it's all I have of her and I… I just want to respect her, that they respect my will.

"I am not like him, I am not a monster!"

At first, Virginia was temped to refute his statement, but once again a tide of feelings –anger, pain, sorrow, tenderness- caught her.

Tom was still giving her his back, talking to himself. "Are they a bunch of fools? Or am I the fool, because despite everything I am so attached to a woman I couldn't know?

"My mother… my mother used to love roses, she was so joyful and so full of love. She had the gift to bring light and happiness to whom was around her. And her only mistake had been to… to fall in love with that son of a bitch!" he yelled, punching hard the windowpane and shattering it. "She loved him with all her heart and soul and he… he killed her…"

_.: flashback :._

**_W_**_ith a huge smile on his face, Tom Riddle walked back home, feeling as if the whole world was sharing his joy: it was May, the 22nd, the sky was bright blue, the weather was gorgeous and he had just won his first, important case. But most of all, his first child's birth was close._

_"Six weeks," the lawyer sang happily, "six weeks and I'll be a father…"_

_He brought some strawberry pastries; he knew his wife craved them often. He brought a bottle of the finest champagne too, since they were going to celebrate the success that would open them doors. Like his parents' one, who didn't accepted a "weird half English-half Italian whore" as their grandchildren's mother._

_Herentas wasn't a weird half English-half Italian whore, Tom said to himself, she was a wonderful woman, and so different from the ones his parents knew: she was clever, cultured, and able to have a proper conversation about anything. And she was so sweet and caring, even if sometimes she was eerie and almost dangerous when provoked, like a beautiful rose with sharp thorns._

_When Tom arrived in his neighbourhood, he met Mrs Forcible, his housekeeper, who told him that his mother-in-law was going to come for a couple of days._

_"Is she coming today?" he wondered and the housekeeper nodded. "Then buy another bottle of champagne and some sturgeon for dinner too."_

_Tom was glad that donna Agata would come, she was the only one among their relatives to be on good terms with them. Donna Agata's visits were rare, because she was able to go at her daughter's house only when Herentas's father was away._

_The three of them hoped that the child's birth would settle everything in their families: the Riddles would open their eyes and see what a wonderful wife their son had chose, and Lord Meridiæ would learn to accept his daughter's choice._

_Tom opened his house's front door whistling a happy tune, leaned his jacket and briefcase on a chair and went toward the lounge loosening his tie's knot: he heard voices coming from the room and he smiled as he recognized them._

_Donna Agata may have come sooner than usual and she was talking with Herentas about something important._

_"… if I tell him!"_

_Tom paused hearing his wife's thin and desperate voice. An awful suspicion grew inside him, like a cancer. Tom got closer the door: it was ajar and he saw his wife sitting before the fireplace, wiping her eyes and absent minded brushing her bulging stomach. Donna Agata was nowhere in sight._

_"Herentuzza, it is the best thing to do."_

_"Tom isn't ready yet, mamma. He isn't so keen to accept things that are… odd for him. First I have to teach him that… unusual things exist in this world."_

_Tom frowned: what were they talking about? And why did it seem that Herentas was talking to the fireplace?_

_"You should have told him before you felt in love, before you got married!_

_"Are you ashamed of what you are?"_

_"No, I'm not, mamma! I am proud to be Salazar Slytherin's descendant, I am proud to have to blood of a Trao pulsing in my veins!_

_"But I know my husband enough to say that right now he wouldn't take it well: when I'll tell him, he must be able to accept… what I am."_

_"What are you planning to do? Keep him in the dark until the day your child would show first signs of magic or get his Hogwarts's owl? Then you'll be forced to tell him that you are a witch, and maybe… maybe it'll be too late: you can't base a marriage on a lie."_

_Tom couldn't believe his ears: the woman he had married was… was she really a witch? Why in six years didn't Herentas ever tell him she was a… a demon! Did she charm him!_

_"You are right, mamma," Herentas sobbed, "when… when the baby will be born, I'll tell him._

_"But… what if he'll leaves us?"_

_"It'll be a huge shock for him, I'm not denying that, but if he loves you at least half as you love him, then you don't have to worry. At the worst, Uncle Alfio wouldn't mind to have you at Santa Eufemia._

_"Santissima Rosalia, your father is calling me! I have to go now; we don't want him to be suspicious, do we? I'll be there no less than within half hour."_

_Tom heard as sound, like a firework. He saw Herentas got up and she pointed a stick to her face, muttering something: she took a deep breath and caressed tenderly her stomach._

_"You are quite excited today, aren't you, Little One? Come one, we have to finish the potion before your daddy comes back home. __Accio oil lamp!"_

_A green and clear glass lamp flew in Herentas's hand and she lit it with the stick. As he watched all this happens, thousands thoughts whirled in Tom's mind and a frightful dark shadow, which resembled Little Hangleton's old vicar and had old Mrs Riddle fanatic voice, ate every happy memory he had about his wife._

_The door opened with a creaking: Herentas gasped and then she smiled to her husband, a smile filled with love and sweetness._

_"Welcome back, dear: how was your case? _

_"Ah, the Wilkins has organized a party this Saturday, there will be many important people and…_

_"Why that dark face, Tom? Don't tell me that... have you lost!" Herentas whispered apprehensive Herentas._

_Still holding the oil lamp, she approached him and stretched a hand to touch his face. With a furious gesture, Tom moved away her hand looking at her with hate._

_"Tom, what is happened? Why are you so angry-"_

_"Shut up!" he yelled slapping her with such strength that she had to grab the table to not fall. _

_The lamp slipped from her hand and shattered on the wooden floor, setting fire to the tablecloth. _

_Herentas brought a hand to her offended cheek, feeling it swell under her fingers, tasting the ferrous taste of her own blood on her lips: her husband had never beaten her. She looked at him, searching for the feelings she had read in his eyes that same morning, all she saw, was a mixture of anger, grudge, disgust, hate. The baby moved inside her, giving her the strength -the hope- to try and calm down her husband and understand what has happened to him._

_"Honey, please calm down… wh-"_

_"Shut up shut up shut up! _

_"The charm of your eyes and of your words doesn't have any more effect on me!" he growled throwing a crystal pot full of roses._

_She raised her arms to protect herself, the splinters and the thorns hurt her skin, and the water soaked her dress. He slapped her again and this time she wasn't lucky: she fell, beating the side against the table's edge. Herentas felt a sharp pain in her ribs and she shut her eyes and tightened her lips as tears flowed on her face. She tried to take back breath but it was impossible: because of the hit, she could only inhale. _

_She let herself lye on her back trying to dominate the pain, to allow her lungs to resume working: after half minute she was able to breathe, even if in breathless gulps and she tried to reach the closer chair._

_"Where are you going!" shouted Tom kicking her back and threw down a console table upon her. _

_She hardly held back a groan of pain when the piece of furniture broke her leg, just under the knee._

_"P-please... stop it: yo-you'll hurt our… our b-baby…"_

_"Shut up!"_

_"B-but…"_

_"I won't let you change me in a toad or hex me, damn witch! For too much time you kept me bound with your spells, and who knows which mixtures you have made me swallow in these years!"_

_"I swear on the wand, the cauldron, the sword and the coin that I never ever..."_

_A choked yelled got out her throat when he resumed hitting her. She curled in a ball trying to protect the life inside her: She tried to hold back her tears, to not scream, to dominate the pain. But the physical pain Herentas felt was little thing before the emotional one: for the young woman each word, each insult of the man she loved above everything was like a stab in her heart._

_"Tom… plea-please, let me ex-explain…"_

_"There is nothing to explain, damn witch! _

_"I shouldn't have helped you that damned day I have met you! My parents were right; they have told me that one day I would regret marrying you! _

_"I thought you were different, and in a way, you are: you a monster, a Demon, an unnatural being which enjoys and desires bring damnation to the human kind!_

_"But now I know who you are, your spells don't have effect on me: I recommend your soul to the devil, if you have one, because now you'll get what you deserve. You'll burn, just like those of you demoniac race in the past! And the flames will purify this place from your witchcraft!" he ended throwing on her some spirit's bottle, the alcohol soaking her clothes. _

_The flames cast a mad light on Tom's feature as he laughed fanatically, staring angrily at her, and then he left the house._

_The flames spread in the lounge, eating greedily the carpet and the curtains and the wooden furniture. A dense grey smoke was slowly filling the room. And burning tears flowed as Herentas thought about what had happened, about what to do: if she did nothing, she and the child would die. But she had lost her wand and she didn't know where it was –and maybe the flames hadn't yet reached it. She couldn't floo anywhere, since she had no chance to reach the Sèvres azure potiche in the cupboard where she kept the Floo Powder. Wandless magic was out of question, she was too weak and she would die before she could complete the spell._

_A new and unexpected pain cut her breath._

_"No… not now! It's… it's too soon!" she whispered, crawling toward the door but she gave up as an other contraction squeezed her womb: Herentas closed her eyes and prayed for help._

_She heard a crackling sound, like fireworks. "Herentas?" she heard her mother's voice venture._

_"M-mamm-" she replied, her voice thin and faint, exploded in a pained scream._

_Without a second thought, donna Agata apparated in her daughter's lounge: she put a hand on her mouth to not scream at that sight, her eyes widened with fear. Donna Agata knelt at her daughter's side and held her carefully, wiping her tears away._

_"What happened?" the mother whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anger. "Who has been so heartless to do this?"_

_Herentas told her mother what had happened with broken words. Her breathing was difficult, a sharp pain cut through her lungs at every contraction, and she felt like drowning. "My… my baby wants to be born…" she coughed._

_"Do you think you can apparate to St. Mungus?" _

_Herentas weakly shook her head as she began to cough foamy blood._

_Donna Agata bit her lower lip, thinking hard, then she accioed a poker. "Then we are going to use a portkey._ Portus_!"_

_As soon as they arrived in the hospital's pristine hall, the nurse scowled at them, but pretty soon she realized what was going on, she called for a mediwizard. Two mediwizards and arrived and they cast the mobilicorpus spell, on Herentas, but then they began to argue over where take her._

_"We have to take he straight in the delivery room: she's going to deliver at any moment!"_

_"And she would drown in her own blood: we have to deal with her lungs first."_

_"It'll take too much to extract all the pieces of bones and heal her ribs, we'll lose both the mother and the child!"_

_"Will you shut up and do something?" donna Agata growled, and then she stroke her daughter's sweaty forehead. "Herentas, what…" but she didn't have enough courage to end the question._

_"… My baby… he must live…"_

_And there were no further arguments._

_The mediwizards took Herentas in the delivery room and then asked donna Agata to wait outside. But she refused, not for anything in the world she would leave her daughter's side, not when Herentas needed her._

_It was a fast childbirth, but not easy: it was six weeks before the right time and the child hadn't turned over. And then there were the damages caused by the beating to make everything even more complicated: because of her broken ribs, Herentas wasn't able to push properly. Donna Agata held tightly her daughter's hand, as to infuse her strength and energy, and she whispered in the Old Tongue, encouraging her daughter or praying for Danu's benevolence._

_"Just another little push, Herentuzza mia bedda," whispered donna Agata, "it's almost over… just another one… "_

_Herentas pushed with the few strengths she had, she almost didn't hear her son's weak whimper. She wanted to take back breath, but at each breath the pain radiated from her side to every inch of her body and she felt her lungs filled with liquid: she would have laughed, if she has felt strong enough, after all she was drowning in her own blood._

_As the first mediwizard took care of the baby, the latter stopped the bleeding and healed the woman's lungs as he extracted the pieces of bones. "She have lost too much blood," he thought aloud frowning worriedly. Donna Agata held the baby and tenderly wrapped him in her dark green crocheted shawl. Herentas looked __intensely at her mother and her child, her breath was irregular and bubbly. Donna Agata sensed what her daughter expected from her: she gently pushed away the mediwizard and placed the newborn on the woman's breast._

_"You were right, Herentas: it is a baby boy... and he has that birthmark too."_

_Herentas smiled weakly at the mention of Salazar's Shame -a heart-shaped strawberry birthmark- and she placed her tired look on her son: he was a child without strengths, neither fingernails and nor hair, the weight too little, still damp with amniotic fluids and stained with blood and fragments of placenta. She remembered that once someone told her that it was a good sign. She stroked the soft little head with two fingers and then pressed trembling lips on the small forehead, whispering three words and staring with love at her baby. "… Tom… Marvolo… Riddle…"_

_The mediwizards could no nothing but hand the baby to his grandmother, write his name on the birth certificate and close Herentas's eyes._

_.: End flashback :._

"**I**f that… if that bastard had just gone away, my mother… wouldn't have died! I… I would have known her… I would have spent my life at her side… she would have taught me so much!

"I… I have hated and still hate that… monster… that's why I killed him, he and those fanatics of his parents! I-if he hasn't beaten her to death, but he just tried to understand her… I-I would not gr-grown in… in that damn orphanage… I would ha-have had a family just li-like you!

"Do you k-know wha-what is wri-written on her he-hea-headstone! _L-l-love was h-her o-o… only s-sin…_" Tom whispered between sobs, leaning his fore head on the French window and hiding his face in his left hand.

Virginia, with tears in her eyes, was shocked: while she listened, her stomach twisted and her throat tightened. She wanted to vomit. But she had stayed and she had listened: she didn't know why he had shared this memory with her-if she could call it in this way- so inner, painful and sorrowful. Perhaps he had been pushed by the simple impulse to confide with anybody, or... Virginia gave up to answer that question. She watched his back and barely grazed him.

"D-don't touch me!" Tom yelled pushing away her hand.

Virginia stepped back and bit her lower lip. Then she summoned all her Gryffindor courage and embraced him. Tom turned in her embrace and leaned his head on her shoulder. Virginia started, a bit for his weight and a bit for the moistness she felt through her nightgown's fabric, and she sat with him on the couch.

Then she had an epiphany: who was the real monster, Tom or his father? The first, who for his greed of power had killed whom was an obstacle; or the latter, who had used violence on his own wife - a pregnant woman- only because he didn't accept her for what she was, despite she has loved him with all her self? Which between the two was the worse crime? Use every mean for what -in accordance with a sick and twisted logic- was fair; or let fanaticism and mental closing hurt an innocent?

Sure, Lord Voldemort had hurt more than one innocent, however Virginia had to acknowledge two things: Herentas Maria Lucia Riddle would have been the most loved and adored mother of the whole Britain and that the affection the Dark Lord had for her memory was the only shred of humanity he had left.

Virginia held Tom tightly, rocking him back and forth with sweetness: with her great surprise, she found the same gestures and the same words with which her mother had soothed her after the Chamber of Secrets' accident. And she kissed his wet eyelashes, surprised that even his tears were salty like her own. Tom mourned for many hours, without utter a sound, letting out the sorrow he had kept for his whole life until then.

He fell asleep, but even his sleep was restless.

.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.

**A/N I** decided to not upload this chapter before I would have written Guilty's last one –I'm working on it, but I don't think people care of that Pure Romance Lovestory ç.ç – but here I am, writing this author note on Easter evening, so think of this chapter like a little gift the Easter Bunny gave you :-P

But don't think that Easter turned me good, because I'm not, so, if you want to read the next chapter –which writing is a little odyssey, because of my past viruses trouble- leave **at least** ten reviews.

**H**appy Easter


	7. La Folia

**.: VII :.**

**_La Folia_**

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

**T**he wind blew wildly on North Wisteria, its low howls among the trees sounded like a woman's voice. Bellatrix lingered on the patio, enjoying the Shetland Islands' wild nature: the last time she had been there –it was almost eighteen years before- the ancient manor resounded with music and laughter. She snorted as she thought of how her family had played an important role on de Poisones' decline: if Narcissa hadn't been so stubborn about marrying Lucius, that family, which blood was purer than mountain spring water, would be kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robe and fighting against the magical blood's corruption.

Bellatrix sighed and shook her head: it was useless to think about a wasted alliance. The de Poisones' pride had died with Charlotte and nobody knew about her brother, not even his creditors. Not even Erzsèbet Bàthory.

Bellatrix ran a hand through her hair, letting the cold wind slap her bare face before she put her mask on: she and some among the Black Cloaks had spent the whole night questioning the Lower Ranks about the attack on Saint Apollinaire Medical Institute. The Death Eater knew that, under other circumstances, such behaviour would be generously praised –except for what happened in the obstetrics ward: it was beyond her understanding why the Dark Lord had ordered to establish the event's liability.

"Are also you curious to see how Miss Trao is handling them?" asked a soft and crystalline voice behind her.

Bellatrix turned, glancing at the unmasked woman, a brooch shaped like two entwined snakes shone on her pristine white dress. "So you are, Brighit," she replied.

"Annika would use her jack-knife, cutting them limb from limb. François, instead, I remember he used to give a glass of Veritaserum mixed with absinthe: a potent and lethal mixture, if you ask me."

"And Madrilena would gladly bred it for him. Rosa would be her usual self and say _Crucio_ with a sweet smile on her face. She was a rose with many thorns, and all in the right places," Bellatrix added nostalgically. "I do miss her. All of them: we were a great team and if I think of the youngsters… what will our Lord and Master do, when we will give our lives to the cause?"

"But Loveday have proved to be her mother's worthy daughters," replied the other witch, as they went toward the dungeons, "and so do the Rookwoods, the Mulcibers and the Rosiers: we have heirs, my dear friend, even if we didn't… even if we are like Pandora's box, like a broken jar," Brighit ended softly and Bellatrix nodded slightly, absent-mindedly brushing her hand on her belly.

Brighit Elaine Lakes was, just like the Lestranges and another half dozen of Death Eaters, that were left of the Black Coats, the cream of the Dark Lord's followers: most of them had been killed during the first war; others, like Barty Crouch, had been sent in Azkaban and had received the Dementor's Kiss. Bellatrix sighed as she remembered the figure of Rosa Evoli, the only of them to die of natural causes.

"Did I ever tell you that Rosa, in her last owl, told me she…" but Brighit silenced Bellatrix, as they opened the punishment cell's door.

"… -ou can't do that!" whimpered a voice, filled with fear, "I'm a wizard, a **Pureblood** wizard! I'm not Mudblood filth!"

"You know," replied Bianca, her voice was as sweet as deadly, "I have waited so much to have a nice, little guinea pig like you… as you have rightly noticed, and there is a difference in blood.

Brighit opened her mouth, but Bellatrix glanced at her: she was too curious to know what Bianca had in her mind.

Bianca sighed heavily: she was holding an unknown and deadly looking creature in her arms and was walking back and forth before a Death Eater, Devil Snare's vines bond him to the wall. There was a table too, upon which there was an assortment of objects that would have made a Knockturn Alley's shopkeeper happy and rich.

"Both the Dark Lord and I think we could learn a lot from Muggle culture," Bianca kept on, as she petted the creature's head, "for example, _Il Principe_ by Macchiavelli teaches us how gain and keep power, or some medical technologies are more effective than potion and charms.

"More over, there is a group of mediwizards who build up a theory about how even magic is a genetic factor, just like eyes colour or the a predisposition to certain diseases. Our Lord rather agrees with them and he is very keen to sustain their researches, and a Pureblood guinea pig would be a welco-"

"You are insane!" chocked the man, "How could the Dark Lord want this? It is sick, and insane and-"

"_Avada_ _kedavra_!" Bellatrix shouted: how did he dare speak on those terms about Lord Voldemort, to whom they all had sworn loyalty?

"Why did you do that?" snapped Bianca, looking daggers at her rival, "I was in charge, not you! I needed him alive!"

"Ops, I thought you needed some help," said the older witch in mock apology, "you were not even using Cruciatus!"

Brighit rolled her eyes: the two of them could make a great team, but both wanted to get the first place… or rather, both of them would have liked to push the other into second place. It was a childish behaviour, since the Dark Lord valued them the same: maybe, he should give them very different tasks, so to get them parted.

_You can't have two cocks in the same hen house_, Brighit said to herself, as she left the two bickering women.

**.: ° :.**

**V**irginia's sleep was uneasy, and she dreamt a huge stone was on her chest blocking her breath. But when she opened her eyes, she realized the weight heaving on her was nothing but Tom sleeping on her breast: she blushed, because usually he was earlier riser than her, so she had never seen him asleep.

She frowned a bit, wondering why they were sleeping on the couch and he still in his travelling cloak: the previous night's memories resurfaced, bringing with themselves the doubts and question she had preferred to ignore. Why did Tom share something so private and painful with her? Was it a real need of consolation or merely a part of a very twisted plan? Considering the first option, why didn't Tom talk about that with Bianca or Isabella, who were still family? And considering the latter, how could some one use his own pain for… for what? To keep her at his side exploiting her feeling of pity! Virginia snorted at that thought: surely the Dark Lord wanted anything but pity.

With a heavy sigh, Virginia tried to shift her body below him. As she moved, Tom grimaced and whispered something in his sleep. Nagini raised her head from her basket near the fireplace, staring at the two humans bathed in sunrise's rose light.

"Don't look at me like that," Virginia spat at the snake, "your master's comfier than me!" then she tried to move him off her. "C'mon Tom, you're heavy…"

It was hard, but after many attempts, Virginia slipped from beneath him: she breathed deeply, feeling a pang in her neck and breastbone, and then she sat on the floor holding her knees.

As he slept, Tom reminded her of a child, a scared child who sought consolation in his own solitude. And suddenly she felt a pang of… tenderness? Affection? She shook her head: it had to be the influence of what he told her the previous night.

"Or else you're becoming insane, Ginny," she said to herself with a forced laugh.

She got up, heading for her bed: she was about to slip under the blankets, when she gave a last glance to Tom. Even though she was aware he was everything but an innocent child, Tom looked so defenceless! She bit her lower lip, and then she took a blanket and placed it on Tom.

"Well, you're positively nuts," she said at her own reflection in the cheval mirror.

**.: ° :.**

**T**he silence, barely broken by a cough now and then, wrapped the Great Hall making heaving June's sultriness on the examinees: most of them were nervous, because the N.E.W.Ts were going to allow them access to the path they had chosen or show to they families what a failure they were.

Harry re-read for the umpteenth time a simple-looking Transfiguration question: it was a trick question, he was sure of it. He stretched, feeling the bones of his neck crack and then he looked around. Ron was a half dozen of desks forward and was sucking on his quill, scratching the back of his head. Hermione, instead, was seated near a window, writing frantically on her roll of parchment and raising her head just to glance in her Ancient Runes dictionary –one of the very few books allowed in the exam. Draco Malfoy was trying to peep at a nearby Ravenclaw's parchment, but an examiner coughed and frowned at him. But the most interesting were Crabbe and Goyle: since the exam started, they just looked blankly at their piece of parchment as if it was written in a foreign language. Harry snickered at the thought.

"Is something wrong, Mr Potter?" asked an examiner, a woman, raising her right eyebrow.

Harry shook his head and skipped the question: he would go back on it later.

°-

**T**he exam was over at half past five, and the examinees poured in the park to relax a bit: groups of five or six students were chatting below the trees or having a walk along the lake.

"I'm not so sure about my reply to question twenty two," said Hermione thoughtfully, "after all I couldn't write everything about the Dryads and Veelas War in merely fifteen lines, there is so much to write about it and-"

"Please, stop it!" Ron complained rolling his eyes, "it's done, and all I want to think about is summer holiday!

So, mate, are you going to come and stay at the Burrow?" he ended winking at Harry.

"I don't think so, Professor McGonagall asked Professor Moody to train me for my admission at the Auror Academy."

"Ugh, extra study? I suppose Hermione's influencing you too much. And Mum's going to not like it."

"What, me not spending summer at your place or me applying as an Auror?"

"Both," replied Ron sadly, "you know how her nerves are since when Ginny…"

Harry sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for what had happened almost one year before: if Ginny and he weren't dating… _it isn't all your fault,_ said a voice in his head, _after all you were going out just to please Ron, you know she was happier with that Zabini boy_.

Absent-mindedly, Harry's eyes wandered on the park: even among a crowd of black haired Slytherins, Blaise A. Zabini was unmistakable, and his demeanour was different from his housemates and made him look like royalty in exile. Harry remembered when, right after last term's Christmas Holiday, Hermione had stated how dangerous he could be for Ginny. _Just look here: almost ten pages of Hogwarts: a History are about his mother's affair with the former Potion Master, and she was not even fourteen! It's better if we tell Ginny how suicidal it is dating him, _her words resounded in his mind.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron as Harry got up.

"Have to… talk to some one."

Harry jogged through the lane, feeling rather stupid: the only times he had talked to Blaise Zabini was in class, and just nothing more than tell him to mind his own business. Blaise was sitting on a stone bench shaded by maidenhair fern; his eyes were fixed on a group of second year girls.

"Can I have a word with you, Zabini?" Harry asked feeling uneasy, such formal words sounded alien in his mouth, but he didn't know how approach the Slytherin.

Blaise raised an eyebrow; his amethyst-like eyes glanced at the Gryffindor from head to toe. "I'm listening," he said and the cigarette danced on his lips in a mesmerizing movement.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came from his throat. "I… I just wanted to apologize for what happened last year and… and to have let Ron give you a good trashing," he blathered, "I mean, you're quite decent to be a Slytherin and…"

"Don't you think it's a bit too late? Or are you in a ending-of-school's admission of guilt mood?" Blaise replied acidly, and then he added, "Never mind, Potter, after all we are still paying for that day, but I do understand your friend's feeling. I would do the same if some one laid a finger on my sister," he ended, staring at Melinda playing on the shore with three Ravenclaw girls.

Harry frowned, he didn't expect such statement from a Slytherin: he looked at the four girls as well, smiling at their cheerful and naïve behaviour. Then something nudged at the back of his head. "What do you mean with _we are still paying for what happened that day_? Are you referring to Ginny's- " but he failed to end the sentence.

Blaise breathed in a puff of smoke without looking at the boy. "One of the Modern Age's diseases, is prejudice," he said, sounding somewhat distant, "as your friend's behaviour shows."

"Listen who's talking," Harry snapped sarcastically, "you Slytherins are the epitome of tolerance!"

"I never cared for this little embroidery on a vest," said Blaise, gesturing to his Slytherin insignia "and I doubt that any house is totally free of dark wizards. Probably a dark wizard forgets which House he had been sorted into once he is intoxicated by power. What I meant was if your friend was a little less hot tempered and realized Virginia was old enough to make her own choices; and if I acted before it was too late, Virginia could have been here with us now, safe and healthy."

Harry felt his insides boiling with anger and he was itching to punch him hard: how did he dare to say that!

"Do you? Strange that a Death Eater like you feels sorry to have killed some one. Or is your whole lot trying to redeem!"

Blaise was incensed and he looked as if he could burn Harry with his stare, then he stubbed out his cigarette and got up. "You are twice wrong, Potter, even though I know there is nothing I could say or do to demonstrate to you a Zabini does not meddle with lunatics like them. And I'm surprised you give credit to a delusional wizard like Malfoy."

Harry was speechless, both because of Blaise's anger –he was known as a mild person- and his opinion about Draco Malfoy. A warm breeze rose, the yellowing green grass billowed at his feet. Blaise was talking to the second year girls, his attitude reminded a caring but stern older brother: he was shepherding them back into the castle telling them tea should be served shortly.

"Then, if you really are not what I think you are and know something we don't about Ginny, why don't you just tell her family?" Harry said, looking daggers at Blaise.

But it was his sister, Melinda, to reply. "All we know, is that Virginia had been kissed by a Dementor on the thirteenth day before the Calends of Augusti and that an Healer is taking care of her since the day before the Ides of Aprilii," she said cryptically, her voice sounded hieratic and out of time, "Why, we know not, since often a mediwizard follows who had been accidentally kissed.

"You have to understand, Harry James Potter, it is pure cruelness to give a hope where there is almost none." So spoke Melinda Idona Zabini, in a late spring afternoon.

**.: ° :.**

"**Y**ay! School's over!" sang-song Isabella, "C'mon To', let's dance lambada!"

She forced her cousin to stand up and tried to involve him in a weird dance. Tom had no intention to accede Isabella's folly.

"This is not a dance floor," Bianca spat incensed, "so stop bothering our cousin! More over, if I'm not mistaken, the term should end next Saturday."

"I know," she replied matter-of-factly, "but I'm done with all my tests and interrogations, so why waste my time?"

"Interrogations?" wondered Ginny

"She means oral tests," explained Tom, trying to free himself from Isabella's grip. "Get off me, you silly girl, if you weren't my cousin…"

"Stop to be such an asshole and have a bit of fun!"

"Isabella!" yelled Bianca, slapping her hand on the table, "Watch your mouth or--"

"_Cruci_--"

"_Tiki tiki_!" Isabella said quicker than Tom, and he and Bianca fell on the floor laughing as if they were hit with a powerful tickling spell. Isabella shook her head and looked at Virginia. "Have you seen what I have to do to make them laugh? I wonder what they would do without me."

Virginia was tempted to reply that their live would have been a lot quieter, but she kept her mouth shut. Isabella tried to take Virginia with her, but Galene would have been there shortly and the English witch had to decline the invitation. Actually, Virginia was a bit afraid of what Tom would do after that tickling spell wore off: she knew, deep inside, it wasn't good to step into his bad side, especially if he was angry.

As Virginia had foreseen, Tom was in a foul mood, and only Nagini's presence seemed to calm him down a bit. Virginia was thankful Isabella was off since after breakfast, or she would be cursed from Heart to Moon and back. Bianca, instead, spent the whole morning with a serious headache and didn't go out her chamber before noon.

°-

**I**n early afternoon, it seemed that quiet was back on Santa Eufemia, even though Tom still cursed Isabella under his breath. Virginia wondered what would happen once her youngest hostess was back home. And Isabella went back home.

The girl entered in the lounge, carrying shopping bags and gaining a fierce look from her cousin. "Don't look at me in that way," she said, putting her bags on the floor and sitting on Tom's armchair's arm, "Peace?" she ended holding out her hand.

Tom glanced at her sideways, not caring to hide his mistrust toward the girl. But Nagini, who was coiled on his lap, hissed something to her master, who grunted and took Isabella's hand. Suddenly, Isabella hugged her cousin very enthusiastically.

"And to make me forgiven, I've bought these for you," she said taking from her bags a very colourful, very large shorts with Goofy's face printed on.

Incensed, Tom got up, wand ready. "There is no way I'm going to wear those… those obscenity under my robe!"

"First, there are swimming trunks, and I've bought them very large so they can hide that monument to cuteness of your birthmark," Isabella explained as if she was talking to a little child, "and I've also bought you a matching T-shirt, and a matching hat, and also a matching tie," she replied calmly, knotting the tie on his neck.

Tom was as still as a statue, too shocked to say or do anything but fix Isabella with a stare. The girl took his wand from his hands and gave it to Nagini. "Just wait he's usual self before give it back him, 'k?" she told the familiar, who seemed to perfectly understand what she was saying, "and tell him he have to come to the cinema with me tonight."

"What make you think Tom would indulge in Muggle pastimes?" wondered Virginia arching an eyebrow.

But Isabella merely shrugged her shoulder, as if she couldn't care less.

°-

**T**om was able to avoid the night out with Isabella and her friends, but that didn't mean he spent a quiet evening! On the contrary, at the very end, Isabella was able to drag Virginia with her, and the wizard knew too well what a bad influence Isabella could be: that girl needed someone to have in her power. Alas, the girl was immune to Imperius Curse, and the only one who had tried to use it on Isabella, now was laying six feet below ground.

And so Tom waited for them like a good relative, even though his reasons were everything but affection: he just didn't want to give them too much freedom, since he didn't like the girls getting bold. It was almost two in the morning, when they came back home: Virginia were tipsy, or rather, drunk; Isabella had a dreamy look on her face and none of them seemed to care about Tom's angry scolding.

"Please, To', stop to be such a pain in the neck," Isabella yawned, stretching her arms, "Oh, and for my birthday I would like a new motorbike."

"You what?" replied Tom, as he carried Virginia in their room. "Is this the time for such absurd request, Isabella! And then you have already your Vespa! Be thankful my hands are busy or…"

"Or what, To'? Hex me?" spat Isabella, annoyed, "You know? I think you should do something for that stupid I'll-hex-everybody mania of yours, it is boring! G'night."

That was only the beginning.

**.: ° :.**

**W**ith the passing of the days, Isabella became even more restless: not only she showed little or no respect toward her relatives, but also she involved Virginia in almost everything she did. Virginia really didn't know how far she could go, since Tom had no intention of letting her do what she wanted –or what Isabella wanted her to do- and his ways with her had become even more pressing and dictatorial. Virginia kind of understood his behaviour: it wasn't pleasant for someone like Tom see Isabella try sorely his own authority and patience, and most of all, he couldn't bear blackmail.

Yes, blackmail, because that was one of Isabella's last resorts when she wanted something from Tom.

"The fact is," once she said to Virginia, "both Tom and Bianca want me on their side, but they couldn't use Imperius on me: you know, consensual magic is more powerful, and… gifts like mine could not be forced.

"That's why To' pleases me, he thinks he could bribe me. But I'm wittier than him."

"I don't think you should play too much with him," Virginia replied gloomily, "I know him, and I can tell you one day he'll get tired of your behaviour, and then… _ZACK_! Two words and he'll get rid of you."

"I'll think about that when it happens."

Virginia was unsure about Bianca as well: her hostess was on the edge, close to a nervous breakdown. And she didn't care if the Housekeeper told her that happened every summer, Virginia didn't know if she should feel sorry for her or if she should feel kind of avenged. The only sure thing was her hope to never ever introduce Isabella to Fred and George: all the three of them were troublemakers, and who knows what they would do together!

°-

**T**he cherry on the cake was Isabella's birthday. That day, Isabella was wilder and more hyperactive than usual: she treated her cousin like a life-size doll, trying to convince him not only to go at her birthday party, but also to wear Muggle clothes. Bianca, instead, left the house right after breakfast and she spent the whole day inside the crumbling watchtower.

"At least she won't dare to bother me there!" Bianca said. How wrong she was.

The fact was that Isabella demanded everybody was involved in the preparation for her birthday party, in a way or the other: in early afternoon, some of her friends came to help with food and decorations. Their presence took Isabella's mind off her relatives, even though neither Bianca nor Tom liked to have Muggles at Santa Eufemia.

At half past nine, all Isabella's guests had arrived: schoolmates, close friends, Muggles and young wizards and witches were together, as if they belonged to the same world. Virginia couldn't believe Lord Voldemort's cousin was able to succeed where a lot of wizards had failed, and for a whole night Santa Eufemia was what wizards like Arthur Weasley and Dumbledore dreamt of, sweet utopia.

The first thing Isabella did, was unwrap her presents. She got some DVDs, comics and a digital camera from her Muggle friends. From her wizarding friends she got a new broomstick, two eardrops made with amber and Citrine and an Advanced Charms book, and Tom gave her a motorbike.

"But you won't ride it until you are of age even for the Muggle world," he grumbled, sounding very annoyed.

After that, the buffet began, and on the large table appeared food Virginia had never seen nor tasted: rice balls as big as tangerines filled with mince meat and cheese, the tiniest ham and salami rolls, all the kind of sandwiches you can think of, aubergine roulade or with tomato and cheese, flat breads with tomatoes and olives and wild marjoram, cold pasta dishes, and salads. But what made you drool, was the desserts table: a triumph of tarts, Bavarian creams, ice-cream cakes, biscuits, puddings, ring-shaped cake, sorbets, marzipan and the most sublime examples of Sicilian pastry making.

Once they had eaten and drank something, one of Isabella's Muggle friends gave a green light to the fun: they danced barefoot on the grass, exchanged jokes and talked about this and that.

"Why aren't you dancing?" asked a girl wearing glasses to Virginia.

The witch bit her lower lip and shook her head. "I just don't know Mu—Italian dances," she said blushing.

The girl just rolled her eyes and took her hand, dragging her on the grass.

"Have you never studied Muggle Studies at school?" whispered a boy behind her.

Virginia turned and she knew at first glance he was a Wizard. "Yes but I never ever attended that class."

"Strange, here in Italy that is a compulsory subject," replied a dark haired witch, "but it isn't a mystery English and Italian school systems are different.

"For example, I think it's very… confining to wear the same clothes, just like it should be very boring to spend the whole term, classes and free time, at school."

"It's not that bad!" Virginia answered back, feeling as if she had to defend Hogwarts's honour. "We have a lot of fun, and it isn't like we are locked inside the castle from September to June, there are holidays and Hogsmeade Saturdays! "And about wearing the same clothes, it wouldn't be… nice if some one wears shocking pink boas and an other one hand-me-down robes!" she ended, thinking about a trio of Slytherin girls, whom used to wear frilly, pink and forbidden accessories with their uniform.

The other witch blinked at her, then she smiled and was about to say something, but some one said. "Do you have your swimsuit? Yes? Then let's have a swim!"

They walked through a bendy path, lighted by citronella smelling torches, and reached a small pebble beach: most of them changed into their swimsuits and spayed each other, both with hands and magic. Others, instead, lighted a bonfire and they played a guitar singing songs Virginia didn't know. Suddenly, four boys grabbed a fully dressed Isabella and nonchalantly tossed her into the water.

"That's a war declaration!" Isabella exclaimed, laughing her head off, "_Gavettoni_!"

A water bubble rose and flung toward the four boys, splashing them. At once, a water bubble war began, the Muggles using balloons filled with water and the wizards using spells to throw water at each other.

Virginia was hit on her back, but she ground her teeth since she didn't have her wand; some one tapped her shoulder and she turned: it was a grinning Muggle girl, handing her a balloon. The witch thanked her with a nod and joined the game.

°-

"**D**on't you think Isabella is exaggerating?" said Bianca annoyed and sleepy.

Tom sighed as he watched the teenagers playing like little children. "She isn't bothering us," he replied, "and I don't care why.

"Surely I would be happier if she associates only with Purebloods. I'm sure we could put some sense in her head."

"It would be easier convince the Confraternity to side with you, Thomas. We know quite well that Isabella mixes with Muggles just to spite us."

Tom didn't replied, he knew Bianca was right, still… still he couldn't allow himself the chance to lose some one as precious as Isabella: with the _Magister Verborum_ at his side, the Dark Lord would have been even more powerful. The problem was that Isabella's gift couldn't be used forcefully and or with her unwilling. Neither Bianca nor Tom were sure if the aunts messed with her.

"Can I fetch the cake?" asked Filomena, as they saw the teenagers coming back from the beach, drenched to the skin. Bianca nodded and breathed in heavily.

The teenagers welcomed Isabella's birthday cake with a loud cheering: they snapped photos, toasted Isabella and some one even managed to threw a slice of cake on her face.

"We withdraw in our chambers," said Tom, placing his plate on the table and offering his hand to Bianca, "but if you are planning to wait for dawn, just tell us."

"No, we'll just sing a bit and then everybody will go back home," replied Isabella, looking from her sister to cousin, "Why don't you stay with us? You spent the whole evening in the lounge!"

Tom and Bianca glanced at each other, wondering if it was a good idea to stay. With a sigh, Tom sat near Bianca and with a glance told Virginia to sit at his side. Isabella wiped away the whipped cream from her face and joined her singing friends.

As she saw the guests having fun, Virginia couldn't not feel a pang of nostalgia: she was having a great time, indeed, but… her mind was wandering in her memories and turned toward the parties in Gryffindor Common Room, her Housemates, her teachers –yes, even Professors Binns and Snape- and most of all her family.

"No way, Isabella, I'm not here to let people have fun of me!"

Virginia jumped as she heard Tom hissing these words, looking angrier than ever.

Isabella tilted her head and put her hands on her hips. "To', please, stop being so paranoid. I wouldn't have asked you to join us if I knew you didn't have any musical talent: I've heard you, and there is nothing you should feel ashamed of."

Maybe it was just a trick of her tired eyes, but Virginia had the impression Tom was blushing in the shadows. "By the way, I know none of your songs. And no, Isabella, I don't feel like arguing with you right now."

"Then, if you don't want to sing, you could play the flute for me," Isabella said, strangely compliant.

But Tom snorted. "Tsk, your ears are deafened by that… that cacophony you youngsters dare to call music," he said incensed, "it would be impossible to expect you could understand the beauty of real music.

"I won't share with a bunch of little ignoramus what Mother left me." And he left, walking toward a secluded corner of the garden.

"I would like to know who he thinks he is," snorted one of Isabella's Muggle friends, "or does he really think the all we hear is disco music?"

"He… he isn't the most friendly man in the world," said Virginia, wondering why she was defending him, "and Isa knows pretty well what a failures his interpersonal relations are."

"Let me guess, Isa," added the girl with glasses shaking her head, "you spent the last ten day pestering him to buy you that Ducati bike, didn't you?"

Isabella just shrugged her shoulders and drained her drink.

°-

**A**t around two in the morning, people began to go away, and the last guests turned on Isabella's stereo set and spent the last minutes relaxing, talking or dancing. Bianca was doing her best to show what a decent hostess she was and she was fighting with her own sleepiness. Tom instead wasn't back yet, or perhaps he had gone inside the villa through the backdoor. Ginny felt tired and somewhat happy, but she couldn't take her mind off what Tom had said: feeling as if she had a stone on her heart, Virginia walked through the garden, breathing in the air scented with sea and Mediterranean plants.

It was a starry and moonless night, the stars in the sky flickered like thousands and thousands candles, just like in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. How were her friends? She asked silently to herself, and what about her family? Did they miss her? Did they hope she was alive? Surely Harry would be feeling guilty, as if her abduction was his fault.

As if the concepts were linked according to an inscrutable logic, her thoughts went to Blaise: even if he was a Slytherin, he was the only to show her a sincere and deep… affection –she didn't dare call whatever the boy felt for her--in a different way. What was he doing? Did he give her up or was he looking for her? Even though Virginia herself wasn't sure about what she felt for him, something told her Blaise was her last resort. _Last resort of what?_ Nudged another voice in her head, you should know that trusting a Slytherin is just a waste. Virginia leaned over the banisters, fascinated by the waves shattering on the rock below her.

"What are you doing here in the dark, Virginia?" asked Tom, sounding still pissed off.

"Mind your own business," she answered back, not caring about his reaction.

He frowned at her, and then he smirked. "I would like to remind you you're not allowed to be in a bad mood. Unless you're suffering of PMS, in that circumstance I would be a bit more sympathetic."

Virginia was too angry to reply, all the sadness in her heart was forgotten: she clenched her fists, wondering why he had to vent his distress on her. _It's because you're his china doll_, whispered that voice in her head.

"Oh, a bolero," said Tom to himself, and then he looked at Virginia. "You do know what a bolero is, don't you?"

"If you want a reason to punish Bianca or Mrs Fudge, I'm sorry to say that yes, they told me what a bolero is."

"Then dance with me," he said holding out his hand.

Virginia bit her lower lip, wondering how much she could trust him: hesitatingly, she placed her hand in his. Tom tightened his grip on her and they swayed in the night. She had no idea of what the lyrics meant, but she felt they somewhat fitted what she was feeling. Tom sang softly the song, almost absent-mindedly; and then he looked down on her, an unknown shine sparkled in his eyes.

"Ehy you, this isn't Snogland!" Isabella said aloud to no one in particular.

.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.

I know it's passed a lot of time since my last update, but I just wanted to "keep up" with ChiDo's Italian version and, more be a couple of chapter ahead. Among the things I had to do –from finding a job and write my topic for the English's exam- I opened a blog about China Doll's world, Bonded by Kismet bonded-by-kismet-en. splinder. com no spaces and no 3w before the link : there you'll find every kind of information about my story and I'll reply to reader's complex questions.

* * *

i July, 20th

ii April, 12th


	8. The Unespected

**.: VIII :.**

_**The Unexpected**_

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

**T**here was a place Virginia liked more than others at Santa Eufemia: Isabella called it "la stanza dello Scirocco1". It was a stone room; build in a side of the hill and facing north, where you could find shelter from Sicilian summer heat. Virginia and Isabella spent every late morning and early afternoon there, gossiping, playing card games and refreshing themselves in the little artificial waterfall. Often Filomena brought them huge slices of watermelon, homemade lemon sorbets or tall glasses of mint syrup.

Tom hardly was at Santa Eufemia and on the wireless almost everyday the speakers reported Death Eaters' activities. Bianca, was busy with her university too, and no one knew how she could manage to conciliate her study with her tasks for the Dark side.

That day, Virginia and Isabella were sitting on the floor and playing cards.

"I wonder why To' leaves his familiar here." Said Isabella, glancing at Nagini dozing in a patch of sun. "It isn't like we need a guard: we are not going to blow up the house."

"You know him, he trusts nobody.

"Er… I've got a queen with a club…" Virginia said, still unsure about the game's rules.

"That's an eight, you can take that five and two and ace, or five and three." Isabella explained grinning at her own cards. "That also means I do _scopa_2 once again and win the game." She ended, taking the last cards on the floor and counting her points.

Virginia sighed, wondering what was so funny in Muggle card games: even though she was fascinated by the non-magical world, sometimes Muggle solutions were too complicated for her tastes.

"What about another game?" Isabella asked, shuffling the cards.

"What about a game of Exploding Snaps? This scopa game is so boring."

"That's because you always lose, ma'dear. And I don't like Exploding Snaps.

"Have you ever played to _tressette_3?"

Virginia blinked, wondering what for Merlin's bear she was talking about. "I… I don't know…"

"Well, usually it's a three person's game, but I don't think she's going to join us." She pointed to Nagini. "Oh well, a _briscola_4 will be fine."

Isabella began to explain the game's rules. But Virginia felt more and more puzzled, also because right in the middle of her explanation, Isabella decided to play a different card game. She was telling the cards value to Virginia when some one knocked at the door.

"It was about time, Fi'! I'm dying of thirst and-

"To'? What are you doing here? Weren't you planning something with your lackeys?"

Tom snorted, a tray with two glasses of hot mint tea was floating on his wand's tip: with a neat flick of wrist, he put the tray between the two girls and he let Nagini wrap around his body.

"I just needed a little break." He said with a smirk. "And I wanted to share this with Virginia." He ended pretentiously, throwing a Weekly Witch's copy to Virginia.

She arched an eyebrow and sneered. "Oh my, I never ever thought the Dark Lord reads a women's magazine! You are disappointing me."

Tom looked daggers at her, but then his lips curved in a wicked smile. "I'm sorry, ma'dear, but if you read on page seven…"

Virginia frowned and opened the magazine.

_**.: A NEW LOVE FOR THE BOY-WHO-LIVED :.**_

_-by Celine Boivin-_

_After the tragic demise of his last girlfriend, there have been many rumours about Harry Potter's love life. Last year, someone talked about his relationship with Cho Chang, Tutshill Tornados's reserve Seeker–even if close sources talked about a reconciliation: had they been together in the past, despite Miss Chang being one year older than him? _

_Then there were rumours about his affair with Housemate Parvati Patil and a Ravenclaw girl, named Mandy Brocklehurst: the girls themselves have denied these rumours. But this time, it seems a pretty witch has finally brought some romance in our Young Hero's life._

_Reliable sources, told us that recently Harry Potter is meeting with Susan Bones, former schoolmate and colleague-to-be at the Auror Academy._

"_They came in my place about an half dozen times in the last five weeks." Told us Madam Honeycomber, 48, owner of the homonymous pub. "Usually they get a cup of tea or a Butterbeer, and spend an hour or so talking: they don't act as a couple, but I think it's just a safety precaution and they do not want to expose themselves too much."_

"_I think they are a nice couple, they are a very good match!" Told a Madam Honeycomber's frequent visitor. "They both know what means to lose a dear one because of You-Know-Who, and they'll both become Aurors too! They remind me so much of Frank and Alice Longbottom; they fell in love during their Auror training as well. Sure, I don't wish to Mr Potter and Miss Bones what happened to the Longbottoms, but-_

"That's just a bunch of bullshit, and I'm not interested in it." Sneered Virginia, tossing the magazine away. "If you thought to hurt me by letting me know about Harry and Susan, you're wrong: we were dating just because Ron was pestering us about it."

Tom blinked and frowned, his anger was clearly visible on his features: his hand clenched spasmodically around his wand: he was ready to curse she and her impudence.

"Yes, yes, I should have imagined that." He said thoughtfully. "After all, your previous crush was no less than young Mister Zabini."

It was as if a bucket of icy water poured on her head: how did Tom know about Blaise and she?

Isabella looked at the two of them. "What?" she exclaimed. "Gin and Blabla were a couple?" but neither of them was caring what she said.

Tom shrugged his shoulder, stroking Nagini between her eyes. "I'm just surprised, that's all: I would never have imagined your tastes in men could improve so much: to pass from a delusional Mudblood fool to the heir of a noble and ancient Pureblood family, son of a prince –even though an illegitimate son- it is so impressive!

"But I do wonder… did Mr Zabini tell you about his… how can I say… " Tom stroked his chin, twisting his mouth thoughtfully. "Did he ever tell you about his playing interludes?"

Virginia stared at him, frowning slightly: she wasn't so sure to want to know what he was talking about.

"If I'm not mistaken," Tom added teasingly as he walked away, "he did take part to Beltane's Celebration this year."

A heavy silence lingered in the room. Isabella refreshed her face washing it with the artificial waterfall's water. Virginia, instead, stood in the middle of the room, as if a Pietrificus Totalis Spell had hit her. What did Tom mean, talking about playing interludes and Beltane? Was there something Blaise never told her? Did she really want to know what it was?

.: ° :.

**I**t was a nice afternoon: the day before it rained and a breath of north wind mitigated the summer heat. Isabella was dozing in the lounge, snoring slightly, and Virginia was lazily reading a Spell book. Both Bianca and Tom were in Britain: in the last weeks, the Death Eaters' activities had increased and terror was widespread once again in the wizarding community.

Filomena brought a drink to Virginia and she frowned as she noticed some unexpected activity near the main gate: the old housekeeper put the tray on a table and gently shook Isabella's shoulder, asking her something. Isabella rubbed her eyes sleepily and shook her head; then she looked outside: her eyes widened in surprise. She put her sandals on and went outside.

There was a group of five or six people, who were about as old as Bianca: they were talking and looking at the gate's pillars as if they couldn't find something. Isabella reached them and talked with them for a couple of minutes, and then she opened the gate and let them in. Virginia arched an eyebrow as she saw Isabella's self-satisfied expression. "Who are they?" she asked, knowing they were Muggles and surely not Isabella's friends.

"Bianca's schoolmates from University." Isabella snickered. "Can you imagine her face when she sees them? I have to get my camera!"

Virginia looked from Isabella to the Muggles and back, not knowing what to do with them: in all those months she had learned no more than a half dozen of stock phrases and a bunch of extra words. She was unable to carry on a conversation in Italian. Luckily, Isabella was soon back and spared her friend such a feat.

Isabella was acting in a way that would made Bianca proud of her sister, but the huge grin on her face promised nothing good: she talked in a polite way and, from what Virginia could understand, she was asking them about the reason for the visit. Her grin widened as they heard the front door open and Bianca's voice say: " It's just too much, she has no right to humble me in that way! Not before the others!"

"Calm down, Bianca, you know Bellatrix loves to provoke you," replied a voice, and Virginia felt a shiver ran on her back as she recognized the owner. "You have to be patient with her, everybody knows what she has gone through…"

"That's not a good excuse to vent her frustration on me!" She snarled. "Great, my sister too, now." Bianca opened the lounge's door, narrowing her eyes in a mask of pure anger. "Isabella! I told you to not let Mug-" but she stopped in mid sentence as she saw her school mates.

For a full minute, Bianca stared at her schoolmates and they stared back at her as if the time had stopped.

An expression of pure disgust appeared on her face, but it was just a second: Bianca smiled sugary to her guests and asked them why they were at Santa Eufemia.

"_Did you forget it? You invited us last week_!" replied a girl in Italian.

Bianca frowned, mentally asking to herself what in the hell she was talking about.

_.: flashback :._

_It was an ordinary day University: Bianca was annoyed by that rabble of lower beings, but she showed nothing of her visceral disgust. It was her cover, it was the best way to keep the Aurors' noses out of her business and it was an inevitable sacrifice. She held her books tightly to her breast, and a curse almost escaped from her lips as a hand patted her shoulder._

"_Hi Trao, how was the test?" asked the young man smiling at her._

_Bianca shrugged her shoulder and smiled. "Not that bad. Actually I thought it would be harder, this time I hadn't has enough time to study."_

"_Really?" said a young girl with short hair, sound rather surprised. "I've heard a relative of your is ill, I hope he or she is getting well…"_

_Bianca bit her tongue, wondering about the source of that leak of news and at once Isabella's grinning face appeared in her mind. "Er… you know, I'm still busy because of that, we have to be at her side right now," she said, thinking about the upcoming Death Eaters' meeting._

"_If it can help you, we could meet at your place next Wednesday for a study session," a third student suggested sympathetically, "in this way you won't be forced to leave your relative alone and we could help you if there would be some problems."_

_Bianca looked at her watch, wondering why the fellow Upper Rank Death Eater, who was supposed to go and bring her at Elysian Field, was late. "Why not," she said absent-mindedly. _

_.: end flashback :._

Bianca closed her eyes and twisted her mouth: what could she have been doing? How irresponsible to invite Muggles to Santa Eufemia! The wards abound the estate didn't work if the "intruder" had been invited! Muttering all the saints on the calendar, Bianca recovered her composure.

"I'm sorry, I just had forgotten that." She said sheepishly.

"Oh, were you planning a bit of fun, ma'dear?" Erzsèbet said teasingly, glancing hungrily at the Muggles. "I hope you will share with your old friend…"

Bianca arched an eyebrow, looking sideway at the half vampire.

"Why, yes," she said with a scary smile and added, fluttering her lashes at her schoolmates. "Just give me the time to change into something… comfier and then I can show you the estate. Maybe, if Madam Bàthory doesn't mind, we could study a bit."

The Muggles, who were unaware of the danger, agreed.

"Filomena, take my guests in the citrus orchard and serve them some cool drink while they wait for me." Bianca said acting as the perfect hostess: the housekeeper nodded and showed the way to Erzsèbet and the Muggles.

Isabella looked at her older sister; there was an unusual serious and stern expression on her face. "What are you planning to do with them?" she hissed, sounding a lot like an enraged Tom. "Do you have a faint idea of how the Elders will react at your crazy behaviour? We have to cohabit with mundane population; we have to take care of our tradition till the promised day! And your way, or To's way aren't the right ones."

"I remind you I' am the oldest sister, I am the head of the family! You have no right to interfere with what I do!

"The Confraternity, puah! If they really hope for a return of the ancient traditions, why are they doing nothing? Why don't they help our cousin in this war? We both know he should just have to snap his finger to give the wizarding world its rightful place, if only the whole Confraternity sides with him!"

Isabella snorted and shook her head, looking at Bianca with airs of superiority.

"When was the last time you went to a celebration or a council, Bianca Maria Immacolata? When was last time you paid a visit to the Aunts or done your duty?

"I may be younger than you, but I know our rules better than you, and I'm even more powerful than you. The difference, between you and me, it is that I'm pretty aware you have to pay for every bit of happiness or good or benefit you get from life.

"Let's go Gin, I don't want to stay here as this stupid woman proves her foolishness."

Virginia looked from Isabella to Bianca, utterly speechless, and sensing an upcoming storm, she decided it was better to go away from the house as far as possible.

-°-

**I**sabella and Virginia got home very late. Even the tiniest proof of the Muggle's presence disappeared.

Virginia felt uneasy, it was as if the air around Santa Eufemia smelled with magic and blood: she wondered what could have happened during the afternoon and a series of gruesome imagines filled her mind. She knew what usually happened to a Death Eaters' prisoner, and Bianca wasn't an ordinary one. Virginia shivered at those thoughts: she sat in her bed, panting heavily: she had to clear her mind, she had to think about something else or she wouldn't sleep. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheeks: what would do her mother do? She would bring her some warm milk with a dash of chocolate or a cup of lime tea. Virginia got up and went to the kitchen.

The light and the wireless were switched on: she frowned, wondering who could be awake at dead of night; it wasn't Isabella because surely she didn't listened to that kind of music. The witch approached the door silently and slowly opened it.

An old gramophone was on a low cupboard and Tom was sitting at the table, still in his travelling clothes, twirling a glass of amber wine in his hands. He rose the glass thoughtfully, and only then he noticed Virginia's presence.

"Why are you out of bed?" he asked, sipping slowly the wine.

Virginia gaped at him, and then she entered in the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for milk. "I couldn't sleep, that's all."

"If you need some Sleeping potion, it is in that cupboard."

She whispered an embarrassed 'thank you' and took a dark green glass bottle.

"That's a laxative potion, can't you recognize a label?" Tom chuckled, levitating another bottle into her hands.

Virginia shrugged her shoulder, pouring two spoonful of potion in a glass of water. "You know I can't read Italian."

They sat at the table silently; a piano's sound and the crickets' singing filled the room.

"What song is this?" Virginia said, feeling the urge to talk.

"It's Chopin, silly girl, a… bah, it's useless to explain it to you." He replied biting a slice of bread with a mouldy looking cheese spread on it.

"I don't think you should eat rotten food. Or do you have such a great fait in your immortality you think it would avoid you some intestinal trouble?" she said teasingly.

Tom tsked, looking defiantly at her. "Here's another proof of your ignorance, Virginia.

"What you have so commonly called _rotten food_, in one of the most delicious Italian products. You are proving to be more ignorant than what I thought."

Virginia snorted, pursing her lips in rage. "Oh, I'm so sorry to disappoint you, my Lord and Master," she spat incensed, "forgive my ignorance, I am a poor brainless nothing!"

"Good girl, now stop to praise you," he said patting her head as if she was a puppy.

Virginia moved away his hand from her and stood up, wanting nothing but be as far as possible from him: she spat a low "goodnight" and walked toward the door.

"Wait!" said Tom getting up and grabbing her wrist, a wicked sneer curved his lips. "We haven't _played_ in a long time…"

.: ° :.

**G**alene smiled, as she checked Virginia with her wand.

"Good," said the Healer nodding, "your magical equilibrium is almost as it was before your poisoning, which is a great outcome.

"But remember, you won't be anymore as physically and magically strong as before, and you may have some trouble in the future." She took a piece of parchment, written in a thin, elegant handwriting. "Here's a diet you have to follow and some potions you have to take for the whole of your life: the amounts are high, but I think in one year time we could diminish it.

"You play Quiddich, don't you?" asked Galene, fastening her travelling cloak, and Virginia nodded. "I suggest you to go in for a less dangerous, more complete sport."

"W-what?" exclaimed Virginia. "I like Quiddich, and I'm good at it too! Why should I give it up?"

The Healer sighed and took her hands, looking Virginia in her eyes. "As I told you, you'll never completely recover: Quiddich in a straining sport, both physically and magically, and because of that your body won't be able to finish a training or a match.

"Why don't you try swimming? Both wizards and Mundane people say it is one of the best sports."

Virginia was in despair and on the verge of tears. "Swi-swimming! I don't like swimming! I want to play Quiddich, not to move my arms and legs in bathtub!" she cried.

"Don't be a baby," said Galene, frowning and putting her hands on her hips. "I know what is best for my patients.

"I'll come to visit you in two weeks time."

Virginia lowered her head and sighed. Isabella giggled and patted her back.

"Come on, it's not that bad: it's summer, we could spend a whole day at the beach without Bia' and To' bothering us," she said cheerfully.

Galene nodded and then she gasped, as if she had suddenly remembered something important. "I have a message from the Grey Dames for you, Isabella." She said handing to the brunette a sealed piece of parchment before she left.

Isabella raised an eyebrow and broke the wax seal: she read the letter carefully and then she clicked her tongue. "They want me there!" she exclaimed delighted. "I'm going to pack my things!"

"You won't leave me here alone!" Virginia whined. "You can't leave me alone with Tom around here!"

"Yes I can."

"No you cannot!"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Gin, don't vent your PMS on me, please! If the Aunts asked me to go, I'll go. That's all."

"Ah, so if they tell you to throw yourself out of the window, you'll do that!" Virginia tsked provocative.

Isabella stared at her; a grave expression twisted her face. "Yes, I'll do it," she replied unhesitatingly, "because it would be the best thing to do, if the circumstances needed that.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before Assumption Day."

.: ° :.

**I**sabella left the very next morning and Bianca didn't like that sudden departure: she was too aware of the great influence the Aunts had on her sister, and kind of fear they could egg her on against Lord Voldemort's cause. Even Tom was tense about that, but he hesitated when it was about Isabella: Virginia couldn't understand his behaviour, because it wouldn't take much to Imperio Isabella and force her on the Dark Side. She remembered once Isabella told her about that, but Virginia had never fully understood why Bianca or Tom or anybody else could not use the Imperious Curse on the young witch, it was simply beyond her grasp.

"Virginia, are you listening?"

Virginia started at the sound of Tom's voice: he was looking down at her, his harms folded and an amused sneer on his face. He looked funny in Muggle clothes.

"I never though you could wear the clothes Isabella bought you," she said teasingly.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist. "There was nothing else I could wear, and I think Isabella hid my robes before she left, that infuriating brat.

"Now, go in your room and get changed: Bianca told me Galene wants you swimming, and I'm making sure you're following her indications."

Virginia stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. "Is that a conspiracy?" she cried hysterically.

"No, it isn't. Now, go to change yourself or I'll use the Imperious Curse on you if you don't obey."

Eventually, Tom wasn't in the mood to waste his time by trying to convince her to do what he wanted with kindness: with a neat flick of wand, he didn't think twice to use the Unforgivable Curse on Virginia. When Tom took off the spell, Virginia was standing on the pebble beach, wearing one of Isabella's bikinis.

"Mmmh… I think that swimsuit is a bit too small for you…" Tom said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Well, I don't mind: it isn't the first time I've seen you naked and there aren't other men around here."

Virginia gritted her teeth at him, holding her hands on her chest in an attempt to cover herself. Tom snickered slightly as he took off his t-shirt, showing a well-shaped torso: he walked a half dozen feet into the sea and the he dived, to resurface some feet on. "Come here," he said, "the water is wonderful."

She shook her head, looking at the sea as if she was expecting a huge tentacle to come out and take here. Virginia gingerly dipped a toe into the water, withdrawing. "It's cold…" she whined.

"Nonsense," replied Tom, as he floated peacefully.

Virginia lowered her eyes on the water, a pained expression was painted on her face: she didn't like swimming and she didn't care if the Healer told her so, she would never ever wet herself in salty water. One thousand and one reasons filled her head: salt would get her skin old quicker, and a swimming pool's chlorine would be deadly for her hair. She was proud of her deep red curly hair; she had not even a split end or stringy hair, so why should she ruin it?

Suddenly she heard an Apparation's crack behind her, then two wet arms encircled her waist and there was another crack. Tom was so quick he didn't give her the time to protest as he flung her into the water: he watched amused the girl plunk down, laughing hard. "I told you the water was wonderful and… damn!"

Virginia was foundering, trying desperately to keep afloat, but she moved frantically, sinking more and more.

Tom didn't think twice: he dove again and swam to her, then he grabbed her and apparated back on the beach.

Virginia collapsed on the pebbles, coughing and spitting water: as soon as she had recovered, the girl looked at him full of hate.

"If you wanted to kill me, you almost did!"

"Don't tell me that you can't swim!" He laughed, and Virginia lower her eyes, her cheeks and ears red. "You really can't swim?" Tom wondered.

She refused to reply, but after he asked it for the tenth time, she looked at him with anger and growled. "Yes, I can't swim! You're free to mock me!"

"If you want, I could teach you," he said, and to her surprise there wasn't mockery in his voice, but calm earnestness.

Virginia pursed her lips: should she trust him? A voice in her mind whispered she had to give him a chance, but another voice reminded her he was the Dark Lord and Tom Riddle, the boy who almost killed her in her first year. She studied him warily, as searching in the darkest recesses of his mind any second goal hidden in his offer: not found any, she nodded slightly.

Tom stretched a hand to help her to get up; he then helped her into water: he told her to relax and to not panic, because he would hold her. Then Tom asked her about her Arithmancy's exercise: they began to talk about formulas and equations, then the topic shifted to Ancient Runes and the different translations and interpretations. After a while, Tom told her how the two subjects were complementary and how they could be applied to Dark Arts.

They talked for a long time, cradled softly by the waves and then Virginia opened the eyes and checked her fingers. "My fingers are wrinkled."

"See, it's not that hard: you are floating all by yourself," he replied boring his eyes into her.

Virginia looked back at him without knowing why her insides were fluttering: she closed her eyes, trying to chase away that strange feeling.

.: ° :.

**S**omething was wrong, Virginia felt it in her own bones: the air was heavy with waiting, a tension so dense it could be cut with a knife. All she knew, Bianca and Tom had received an owl the previous day and they didn't like what was written in it.

None of them spoke during lunch, even the tinkling of the cutlery on the porcelain plates sounded like a deafening sound. Only at the very end of their meal, Bianca dared to speak.

"You look so pale, Virginia: why don't you go in your room and rest?" her voice was sweet and caring, but those words sounded more like and order.

The younger witch looked at the older one, frowning slightly: she was feeling quite well, just a bit tired out because of the sultriness, but nothing in her health required the long rest Bianca wanted to impose upn her. Actually, Virginia was unable to understand their behaviour; it was as if they were hiding something. She sighed, thinking it was better to let Tom and Bianca stew in their own juice, so she excused herself and withdrew to her bedroom.

-°-

**T**he woman laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently and reassuringly.

"Remember, keep cool and everything will be fine," she said taking the cigarette from his lip and stubbing it out in a nearby pot. "I've spent seven years of my life living side by side with him and I know him quite well, so remember: weigh your words."

"I'm not a baby, Aunt Sveva, I know pretty well how deal with wizard more powerful and more skilled than me.

"I…" he hesitated as his aunt knocked at the door. "I just want this to be over, that's all."

The woman smiled at her nephew. "We all want this to be over, Blaise."

Blaise smiled at her and followed the old housekeeper.

Bianca looked nervously at her cousin, wondering about put a locking spell on Virginia's door: if she left her room and their not so welcome guests saw her, Bianca felt it could ruin her plans. Tom was nervous as well, he walked back and forth in the lounge, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Excuse me, Mistress," said Filomena entering in the lounge, "Countess Margherita Sveva Zabini and Mr Zabini are arrived."

Tom raised his eyebrows when he heard those words: he hadn't seen Sveva Zabini since after they left Hogwarts. And he smiled as the memory of a witty black-haired girl popped in his mind: he still remembered quite well everything he had shared with her and her twin brother. It annoyed him to be having trouble with Biagio Zabini's grandson.

"Sveva, dearest," he said smiling genuinely at the woman, "how are you?"

"Ah, better than you, I dare say, you old snake," replied the old Countess with a sneer, but her voice and expression hardened suddenly. "But I'm not here to remember our youth, Tom: we're here because of Confraternity's business."

And for the first time in their lives, Tom and Blaise's eyes met: if Isabella was at Santa Eufemia, she would put _The Good, the Bad and the Ugly_'s OST in her CD reader and then turn up the volume so much the whole house would resound. But Isabella wasn't there and there were no music but summer's sounds.

The two wizards scowled at each other: Blaise kissed Bianca's hand politely; he sat at his aunt's side and accepted the iced coffee Filomena brought them.

"As the Grey Dames requested," Blaise began with a calm voice nonchalantly, "we have studied the spell you used to regain your full power, Mr Meridiæ and its… side effects."

"_We_?" snorted Bianca in mock surprise.

Blaise looked sideways at her: he thought she was even more unbearable than her younger sister, but he didn't lose his coolness or politeness. "Saying we, I mean the whole _Magistri_ _Rerum's_ order, madam. I'm surprised, Miss Trao: it's unsuitable for a well-mannered lady like you to cut off somebody else's speech."

Bianca turned pale and tightened her lips: never, in her whole life, somebody had complained about her manners!

"As I was saying, we studied the spell and its side effect, but our researches haven't yet brought satisfying results. That's why they sent me here, to ask you some questions and take a… sample of tissue.

"The _Psychesyllego Spell_ isn't the only one you cast on yourself," he hasten to explain, seeing Tom opening his mouth, "and we think the previous spells had somehow interfere with the last one: even we don't know how the ancient magic and the modern one interact, and I dare say this is a good chance."

"You mean I have to be your guinea pig!"

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Yes, I do mind," replied Bianca acidly, still incensed by the previous remark.

Blaise sighed and entwined his hands on his lap. "If you want to see yourself as a guinea pig, Mr Meridiæ, you are free to do as you please.

"Now, would you be so kind to list every single spell, potion and magical ritual you underwent, starting from your diary's creation?" he ended taking a piece of parchment and a quill from his pockets.

Tom massaged the bridge of his nose: it was going to be a very long afternoon.

-°-

**V**irginia rolled restlessly and blew hard: it was so hot she couldn't sleep. She had lain in her bed for the past two hours and half, gazing at the ceiling and now she wanted to stretch her legs a little bit. She was thirsty too, so she grabbed the jug on her bedside table: it was empty, and the bit of water in her glass was warm.

Virginia pursed her lips, uncertain if call Filomena or go in the kitchen by herself.

"Maybe that mysterious guest of theirs is gone," she said, poking her forefinger in a hole of the crocheted bedcover. Virginia sat on the bed, feeling relief at the contact of her feet with the cool floor, and then she tied her hair in a lose ponytail: without putting her slippers on, she took the jug and got out her bedroom.

The whole house was silent around her, and she wondered if Bianca and Tom had left without telling her: better, she would get a chance to search for the Floo Powder at last. Virginia felt her spirits rise at the thought that –maybe- it was the right time she could tell her family where she was and go back home: she was feeling so cheerful, she was humming a happy tune. But her hopes crumbled as she approached the lounge: she could heard clearly voices coming from here, and even if she didn't understood a word of what they were saying, she could feel a slight anxiety in Tom's voice. Virginia bit her lower lip, crossing her fingers to not be caught by Tom or Bianca –a shiver run on her back at the mere thought of what could happen- and she tiptoed toward the kitchen.

Virginia froze as she heard a deep, husky voice she knew pretty well.

Blaise closed his eyes. "These are mostly modern magic spell, Mr Meridiæ, since they date back to no earlier than the Egyptian Middle Reign5.

"Is there something you…" The words died in his mouth as he glimpsed Virginia peeping at the door.

Everything happened in a second: Blaise stood up, flinging himself toward the girl; at that sight, Virginia left her hiding place, her eyes filled with hope and happiness to see a friendly face. Knowing what was happening, Tom stupefied Blaise before he could reach the young witch, as Bianca reached Virginia and slapped her hard

"You wrench, I told you to not leave your chamber," she spat in her ear angrily, twisting her arm and pushing her toward the staircase.

"This is desecration of Guest Sacredness," hissed Countess Sveva Zabini, narrowing her eyes to two thin slits as she Enervated Blaise, "more over, it is unjustified!"

"Your nephew was about to harm my possessions!" replied Tom, even if he knew it was a poor excuse.

"Do you have a magical contract to legalize your ownership on the girl? Did she give herself to you willingly? Because, if it isn't so, the Council have the right to interfere.

"Or do you really think we are so stupid to not know what you do, Tom? Do you really think you are invincible?"

"Are you menacing me, Sveva?" he said acidly, barely keeping back his anger.

"Aunt Sveva is merely telling facts," replied Blaise, still slightly stunned. "We knew Miss Weasley was with you, we just ignored your giving back her soul…"

"This is not your business, boy."

"Yes, it is, and you know it very well! Virginia is a dear one of mine, and I can't let a… a hothead like you hurt her!"

"I remind you, Mr Zabini, you are talking with Lord Voldemort," hissed Tom, wondering why he didn't hex him now and there.

"And I remind you, you are talking with a _Magister Rerum_ as Messenger," Blaise answered back, knowing he was playing with fire, but at the same time he knew the Confraternity's Rules protected him.

Tom knew that as well: to harm a brother would mean jeopardize his precarious position inside that ancient Order, which was better to not have as an enemy. So Tom merely clenched his fists, feeling frustrated to be unable to vent his anger on him.

-°-

**W**ith no delicacy, Bianca shoved Virginia in her bedroom. "Dare to come out of this room without permission, and you'll wish to have Bellatrix Lestrange crucioing you," she hissed, her face was a mask of anger.

Virginia fell on the floor, and looked up at her fiercely: she felt the tears fill her eyes, but she couldn't cry, not before Bianca, not after she had seen Blaise. "You won't keep me here forever!" she shouted with a satisfied sneer on her face. "He'll tell my parents I'm alive, he'll tell them where I am and this war will-"

"_Sectum_!" Bianca's voice was as sharp as the spell.

Virginia howled in pain, holding her right arm: a deep cut had torn her skin and flesh, almost exposing the bone. The blood flowed from the wound plentifully.

"Tsk! You are a very stupid girl, Virginia. Your knight in shinning armour can't expose Tom or me, no matter how much he would like to do so," Bianca said, a twisted smile curved her lips. And she left, not caring about healing the girl's wound.

Once alone, Virginia wrapped a piece of fabric around her arm, sobbing with pain and despair: she was afraid of what would happen now. She was afraid Bianca was right about Blaise. But he cared for her, she knew that.

.: flashback :.

_**V**irginia lingered in the corridor, panting as she caught back her breath, then she took her trunk and searched for an empty compartment. She didn't wanted to spend her journey back at Hogwarts listening to Hermione talking about S.P.E.W. or to Ron telling her how it would be great if she dated Harry. She thought about sharing a compartment with her fellow Gryffindors, but she rejected the option: Dean and she had slit up badly, and she knew he was still mad at her._

"_Damn Tom," Virginia cursed under her breath, because it was Tom's fault if her love story with Dean had failed._

_The fact was that Virginia was still afraid of any more intimate contact with the opposite sex: Tom was the only one she allowed access to her intimacy, and it didn't matter she told herself that, after all, nothing had happened in the Chamber of Secrets because, after all, he was an incorporeal memory. In few words, Virginia was afraid to find out Tom actually raped her that day. The only way to know that, was to go to the end with Dean, but Virginia panicked if his hands slipped below her shoulder or if his body was too close._

_In middle August, Dean had questioned Virginia about her behaviour, asking for a reason: she was too ashamed to tell him the truth; he begin to think Virginia didn't like him; after half an hour they were screaming at each other and in the end they parted without say goodbye. _

_While she thought about that failure of her love life, Virginia had reached the back of the Hogwarts Express, and she heard some girlish voices coming from a nearby compartment: they seemed to belong to very young girls, maybe first or second year, and she thought it was better to spend the whole trip with them rather than some one she didn't like. Virginia opened the door._

"_Excuse me, is there an empty seat?"_

_There were three girls of eleven, two twin sisters, as blonde as torches, and a black-haired girl, standing up in the middle of the compartment. Her eyes were as clear as spring water and as bright as two amethysts, a thin braid encircled her head, locks of straight hair entwined with pristine white and pale lavender silk ribbon._

"_Yes, there is," replied a masculine voice from the farthest corner. "Let me help you with your trunk," said the boy, standing up._

_Virginia gasped as she recognized Blaise Zabini. At once, her mind was crowded with her friends' gossiping voices: he was one of the most handsome boys at Hogwarts, but every time a girl asked him out, the Slytherin boy had always refused. Parvati and Lavender speculated about his supposed homosexuality, and even Hermione used to talk with zeal about him, quoting a paragraphs of Hogwarts: a History._

"_Er… thank you," Virginia stammered surprised and embarrassed by his politeness._

_The black-haired girl, who looked incredibly like Blaise, sat between the blonde twins, smiling broadly. "Have a seat with us, please," she said, as the two girls giggled and whispered something Virginia couldn't understand._

_Blaise rolled his eyes as he heaved the trunk. "Sasha, Sofja, I would remind you your mother would wash you mouths if she was here." He said sitting near Virginia, since the opposite seat was taken by the younger girls. "Forgive them, Miss Weasley, they seem to forget good manners as soon as they leave Saint-Petersburg."_

_Virginia was surprised by those words: she expected everything but the Slytherin boy knowing her name. _Why are you surprised_, Ginny, she said to herself, _it's not so hard figure who you are just by looking at you_. She sighed, wondering when Blaise Zabini would mock or tease her. But it didn't happened. Instead the black haired girl clapped her hands as she heard Virginia's name._

"_Oh, so you are Miss Weasley! My brother always talks about you!"_

"_Melinda, be quiet, please," Blaise reproached her, sounding slightly embarrassed, and the first year girls giggled at his reaction._

_The journey was pleasant and Virginia liked Melinda Zabini: she was like a May breeze, sweet and scented with wild flowers. She was as lively as every girl of eleven, but something about her reminded you about something lost and never found._

_-°-_

_It was a kind of shock to see someone as pure as Melinda being sorted into Slytherin, but Virginia thought that, after all, that was the Zabini girl's place, and she didn't care about her or her brother anymore._

_It was Professor Vector, driven by Virginia's falling-off grades, to choose Blaise Zabini as her tutor: actually, Hermione would made a better and a more acceptable tutor for the Gryffindor girl, but she was too busy with school and other tutoring and she didn't have enough time for her friend's sister. Ron didn't take the news well, and he even suggested that he himself would help Virginia with her homework._

"_In this way her grades would drop even more quickly!" replied Hermione, shutting her book closed. "He's quite good in Arithmancy, just meet him somewhere crowded and fully visible!"_

_Virginia sighed, thinking that probably her brother would spy on her tutoring. When Lavander heard his bad mood's reason, she laughed. "I would be more worried about you than your sister, you know?"_

_Ron merely grunted angrily and told her to mind her own business._

_Virginia met her tutor in the Library, and she had to admit she was biased about him, because Blaise was a well-mannered boy and, most of all, he was polite and showed respect for her. He had a great patience, especially when he had to help her through the most complex equations. _

_Virginia had to admit also she was at her ease with Blaise, even more than she was with Dean or Michael Corner: she thought it was simply because Blaise was her tutor, not her boyfriend, and she was glad to have some one with whom talk about everything but private business. It was a surprise when Blaise asked her if she would have a cup of tea with him at the next Hogsmeade Saturday._

"_Obviously, you'll pay for it as a thank you for my tutoring," ended Blaise, showing his Slytherin side._

_Virginia accepted and since the morning after, she saved money as much as possible, because she knew that cup of tea would cost her a fortune._

_When Ron heard his sister would spend an hour with that Slytherin boy, his ears turned a bright and dangerous lobster red, and he did his best to keep her where she was. Virginia merely rolled her eyes and she left, saying she was no more a baby and she could look after herself. The Gryffindor girl met the Slytherin boy at the stationery shop, and she said she didn't want to go back at The Three Broomsticks._

"_The Hog's Head is too squalid for my tastes, I don't like the people hanging in there." Replied Blaise. "And Madam Puddifoot's is out of question: that place put up my glycaemia."_

"_Where could we go, then? I don't know other pubs or tea houses here in Hogsmeade."_

"_You never had been at The Enchanted Hawthorn!" he replied surprised. "Then I'll show you the place."_

_Virginia understood at once why she never heard about that teahouse: it wasn't the kind of place an average Hogwarts student haunted. The Enchanted Hawthorn was situated in a side street and from the outside it looked like a classy and expensive place, and even the interior was refined, without Madam Puttifoot'd garishness._

"_Don't worry, this place is beyond eve that Malfoy brat's means," said Blaise helping her in a seat and gesturing to a waiter, whom nodded._

"_Great! I have to fit with the owner: if I'm lucky, then I'll wash dishes here for a decade to pay that infamous cup of tea."_

"_You hurt me, Miss Weasley: I am a gentleman, so I'll pay for it."_

"_You said… What, do you want me to deny the rumours about you!" she whispered angrily and offended._

_Blaise smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, I would never treat a girl in a such improper way._

"_I know what people says about me and I don't care because I know they're just a bunch of lies and…"_

"_And?"_

_Blaise fixed his eyes into hers, his husky voice sounded as soft as a rose petal. "And I would date no one but the girl I'm in love with._

"_Do you mind if I smoke?" _

_-°-_

_Autumn gave way to winter and Christmas holiday were close. The library was a strange place, where you could have a moment of intimacy despite the dozen of students hanging around there. Blaise used to tutor in the Muggle Literature section: it was a very busy place, but no one cared about whom read or studied beside the stained glass window._

_Virginia had learned to appreciate the boy's discretion, but she often thought about what Blaise told her that Saturday at The Enchanted Hawthorn: was that a declaration of love? She wasn't sure, because Blaise didn't talk about that again._

"_I don't understand that: arithmagic strings in four-dimensional space." Virginia grumbled. "I mean, there are three dimension in space: height, width and depth."_

"_And time." Blaise corrected her. "Spells –and arithmagic strings as well- have an effect not only in space, but on time as well._

"_Think about a Time turner: it has the ability to take some one back or forward in time, and you have to change an arithmagic string's values to set the amount of hours, days or years._

"_I know this isn't a simple example to explain that interaction, because these are very complex functions, but I hope it helped you."_

"_Kind of," she replied, but without conviction._

_Blaise watched the girl drumming her fingers on the table, pouting slightly as she tried to solve an exercise. It was almost dinnertime; very few people lingered in the Library and outside the wind howled in the storm._

"_Why do I get a different result every time I try to solve this system?" she whined._

_Blaise leaned forward. "Which one?" he asked and Virginia pointed a difficult looking exercise. "It's obvious, you have first to study the function, and then use the asymptotes' value to solve the system, remembering that using De Bruijn's figures helps to stabilize arithmagic wards," he replied pointing her mistakes._

_Virginia nodded, and only then she realized how close he was: Blaise smelled like tobacco and the herbaceous smell of freshly cut herbs. She didn't know why, but she felt like butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Blaise raised his eyes on her, shaking her from the deepest of her soul: there was an appealing twinkling in those purple orbs of his, reassuring and dangerous at the same time. With a slow and flowing movement, Blaise leaned forward and kissed her._

_It was a kind of wild kiss, like something that had been confined for a long time and only then it could seek relief. And yet there was so much gentleness, as if the boy feared his boldness would scare her away. Virginia was too surprised to say or do anything, and something seep inside told her no one had ever kissed her in that way: she tilted slightly her head and with her right hand she grabbed his tie's knot, pulling him slightly. Interpreting that gesture as a permission, Blaise deepened the kiss: his mouth had the nicotine's bitter taste, with a faint hint of the liquorice root he used to chew on in the Library; hit tongue brushed against hers and explored her mouth with wide, slow movement._

_Virginia gasped as she felt his hand crept into her skirt. "Don't…"_

"_Did I dare too much?"_

"_Yes… I mean no, it's just…"_

"_I do not want to force you into anything, if you don't want so," said Blaise, his lips brushing against hers, and yet his hand lingered on her thigh, caressing slightly the inside with his thumb. _

_Virginia blushed, lowering her eyes. "That's not the matter…"_

_Blaise cupped her face and looked into her eyes. "Listen Virginia, if you are doubting about what I feel, just give me a chance._

"_If, instead, there is… somebody else, then tell me so and I won't bother you anymore."_

_She shook her head, biting her lower lip. "No, it's… you won't understand…"_

_He let her go and smiled bitterly. "I'm not used to mid other people's business, but I do hope you have some one to talk with about… it. Aunt Italia says your problems seem bigger if you are alone."_

_Virginia smiled back at him as bitterly, then she took a deep breath and for the second time in her life she shared her deepest secrets with a Slytherin boy._

_-°-_

_**B**laise kept his word and he went with Virginia's rhythm: some times he was a bit too bold, but he restrained himself as soon as he realized she was uneasy. They went at the Yule Ball together, not caring about what their fellow Housemates thought or said about them: Lavander was the only one to voice what most girls thought and to say aloud she envied Virginia because she had been able to get one of the most desirable boys in Hogwarts. Ron, instead, spent the whole evening spying his sister and his date and angrily grinding his teeth._

_In the following days, Blaise and Virginia caused tongues to wag and many wondered about their relationship. Ron became even more protective toward his sister and he didn't miss a chance to tell her how wrong was to date that "filthy snake". But Virginia didn't care about what her brother said and thought as long as she was happy and she was feeling fine._

_But Fate has a strange way to twist people's lives, and before the end of the winter, Ron cornered Blaise. The outcome was a Slytherin boy in the Hospital wing and a Gryffindor boy who lost fifty points and got a week of detention: actually, Professor Snape wanted young Mr Weasley to lose his Prefect badge, but Professor Dumbledore played down an incident._

"_I feel so ashamed of what Ron did, Blaise." Virginia said when she was allowed to visit him. "I hope you're not angry…"_

"_Me, angry? Oh no, Virginia." he said with a smile. "I understand your brother, I would do the same if some one dares to lay a finger on Melinda. Actually I won't hit that hard, but surely I would challenge that some one to a duel._

_"You know, it's so sad to see your family treat you as if you are still a baby, not at your age, not after... what you went through, but I can do nothing but wait they open their eyes and see you can take care of yourself."_

_Virginia widened her eyes, gaping. "What does that mean? Are you... leaving me just because that stupid had made you see stars?"_

_Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "I will never ever give you up, Virginia. I'll wait your brother matures, or until you' are of age."_

_She blushed at that last statement and its implied messages. She hugged him, breathing in the smell she had learned to know and love so much. _

_Blaise hugged her back with his left arm and placed a kiss atop her head. "I do hope you'll come at Dolci Acque next summer. You know, Melinda is quite fond of you and my mother… she would like to meet you."_

"_I… I don't know," Virginia stammered blushing more. "Maybe I'll be admitted to a mediwitchery's summer course._

"_Oh, your sister told me you want to give me something," she said suddenly, remembering Melinda message._

_Blaise looked at her and smiled bitterly. "Since what happened, it would be better if I wait a couple of months to give it to you."_

_Virginia looked puzzled at him and kissed him before she left. _

.: end flashback :.

**B**laise looked up at Santa Eufemia's windows, he knew Virginia was locked in one of those rooms. He lit a cigarette with an angry gesture: he felt frustrated, because once again someone had taken his beloved one from him, and he could do nothing to take her back.

Countess Sveva looked sadly at her nephew, and encircled his shoulders with an arm. "Come on, Blaise, let's go back home."

Blaise said nothing; he merely let the old woman to lead him outside Santa Eufemia's boundaries.

"Is there nothing I could do?" he said at last.

His aunt sighed, shaking her head. "If your grandfather was still alive, he would kidnap her back: Biagio was so impulsive! Vittorio, instead, he would have thought about the best solution," she said, feeling a pang at the mention of her late brothers. "But you won't expose them, will you, Blaise?"

Once again Blaise said nothing; he just breathed in a puff of smoke and Disapparated.

* * *

1 The literal translation is _Sirocco's Room_: in ancient noble mansions in Catania's Plain, it was a room with a system of brickwork pipes where water ran, with the purpose to cool the room.

2 A card game usually played between two people or two couples, using a pack of forty cards, dealing three cards each at time.

3 A card game, it is played between two couples, using a pack of forty cards.

4 A card game played between two or four people and with an uncovered card, which shows the most important suit in that game

5 From 2000 to 1785 b. C.


	9. La falsa felicità in un guscio di noce

**.: IX :.**

**_La falsa felicità in un guscio di noce i_**

**.: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :. .: ° :.**

"**V**irginia? Virginia, wake up."

She mumbled incoherent words, tossed in her bed and pulled the sheet over her head.

"Come on Virginia, wake up!"

"… Five more minutes, mum…"

He frowned, grabbed the sheet and pulled it, uncovering' the girl. But Virginia had no intention of waking up and she hid her head in her pillow. Tom's hand clenched around his wand, the Cruciatus Curse was half way out his mouth, but he suddenly lingered: it would be too obvious, to crucio her. He tilted his head, tapping his wand's tip on his lips, and he sneered as a memory flashed in his mind: Tom waved his wand, whispering few short words. How many times did he use that trick to wake up his dorm mates?

At the beginning, nothing happened, but then Virginia felt as if thousands tiny ants were walking on her skin, and the feeling slowly became a growing tickling, until it became unbearable.

"Stop tickling me," she complained sleepily.

Tom snickered, folding his arms. "Sorry, that's a self-extinguishing charm: it'll stop as soon as you get up.

"More than… fifty years have passed from the last time I used it."

Virginia rolled her eyes and got up: as she put her feet on the floor, the tickling feeling lessened and it faded away as she walked to the bathroom.

"Don't take too long, we are going to leave within half an hour," said Tom as he rummaged in Virginia's closet.

Virginia frowned and growled from the tub. "Are we going back to Britain?" she didn't know if she should feel happy or scared: if she was in Britain, it would be easier for her family to find her, but at the same time she was afraid to be left alone with him.

"No, we are going to spend some days at Capri: I want to have a change of air, and you're going to come with me. I don't want you to be at Isabella's mercy if she comes back before me."

Virginia didn't reply, sensing there was more than what Tom told her. And she wondered if that trip would be a good thing.

.: ° :.

**_V_**_illa Tacito_ was the only wizarding hotel on the whole island: some anti-Muggle spells made it look like ruins on a cliff and it was impossible for non-magical people to go there because even the paths had concealing wards. Tom and Virginia left their belongings in their room and then they went for a walk.

The young witch was amazed by the beauty of the place: the sea of an intense turquoise, the houses clinging on the island's green slopes, the crowd -it was impossible to distinguish Muggle from Wizards- They quivered like a hard-working swarm of bees around the souvenir shops.

Tom and Virginia had lunch on a terrace on the pier, and then they reached the village. They were greeted by a breathtaking sight: earth and sea united in a loving embrace, with the approval of a clear sky and a sultry air. They visited Capri, going through narrow and tortuous streets, and turning an angle they found in a small sunny open space surrounded by front doors or tiny shops or cosy restaurants. Before them opened junctions and arcs. They went in almost every shop, and came out laughing having bought nothing.

Then they visited the little town's environs, following paths that led them in the island's most romantic places and although they walked all afternoon long, they didn't feel tired. For one afternoon they forgot: they forgot the war raging in Wizarding Great Britain, and they forgot the opposite roles they had in it. They forgot even who they were and for once they were simply a man and a girl tasting the life and its simpler pleasures with joy.

At twilight they went back to the hotel, where they had a quick shower and got ready for dinner: they spent the evening in the square, sitting at a café's table talking and joking about nonsense till late in the night and then they went back to their room.

Tom and Virginia spent the next morning in the same way, but something worried her: why, against her expectations, he was acting this way, as if he were a normal man and not the Dark Lord Voldemort? Why he was being so kind to her? Why didn't he use that awful spell yet –not that she wanted him to? And on the other hand, he wondered if that little trip was a good idea: after all, that was just an experiment to prove to himself he was perfectly able to control his emotions. Emotions, what a disgusting word.

That night, Virginia was unable to sleep: with a heavy sigh she turned on her side, the moonlight wrapped the world with her silvery glow. Tom slept quietly, as if there were no deaths lying heavy on his conscience, his lips were slightly open: it was so surrealistic, he looked almost normal and kind of defenceless. Virginia bit her lower lip, fighting the instinct to wake him up. Why should she do that? To be treated as an object without feeling and will? She violently shook her head and, giving him her back, she tried to fall asleep.

-°-

**I**t was a cloudy morning and the air was fresher than the previous day: Tom and Virginia walked along a path, surrounded by vegetation. She looked sideways at him, wondering why he was still acting in that weird way: what was he up to? Why was he so quiet? She didn't know if she should be worried or not.

Virginia sighed heavily, breathing the air smelling with Mediterranean scrub, sea and… rain? She looked up the sky, the grey clouds reminded her strongly of England: she felt a sudden, stinging pang of homesickness. Within few days she would turn seventeen and she wasn't going to celebrate her coming of age: if they went back at Santa Eufemia before that day and Isabella was back as well, maybe Virginia wouldn't spent that day in utter solitude. To be back at the Burrow would be the best birthday present she could get, she missed her family and her friends so much! But that was a mere utopia.

The raindrops splattered heavily on the foliage and the dusty tiled path, a low thunder echoed high in the sky.

"Oh Merlin, we have to find a shelter!" exclaimed Virginia.

"No, it's better to go straight back to the hotel," replied Tom, "it could get worse."

He grabbed her hand and ran following a path that only wizarding people could see: it took them almost twenty minutes and when they arrived at the hotel, they were drenched to the skin.

"Take a warm bath, or you'll get a cold," ordered Tom, sneezing and running a hand through his wet hair.

She rolled her eyes, thinking **he** was the one who would get a cold. Virginia lingered in the tub until her hands were wrinkled, and she listened at the rain pouring down: it was a soothing sound that lulled her into a peaceful and wistful state of mind. There was a soft and delicate melody in the rain, sweet and sad.

Virginia opened her eyes, listening carefully: it wasn't the rain; there was music in the other room.

Tom, still in his half wet clothes, was leaning against the windowsill, playing a flute, and Nagini was slithering at his feet, hissing irritated. It was a surreal image, which conveyed a weird and melancholic sense of sadness and restlessness. The baroque melody was soft and gentle, and it clashed with the flautist's temper, and yet… and yet Virginia could do nothing but be fascinated, despite she knew quite well who he actually was.

"Should… shouldn't you get changed?" Virginia whispered biting her lower lip.

Tom raised his eyes on her, ending the piece in the middle. "You have no right to tell me what to do, quite the contra-" He sneezed again. "Hope there is still hot water," he growled, putting the flute in a wooden case and heading to the bathroom.

Virginia rolled her eyes: Tom was too haughty sometimes, and to think she once thought Draco Malfoy was the most arrogant man alive, but Tom made Draco look humble. There was no way he would accept somebody else's suggestions, even if they were right. She even wondered if he listened to his closest Death Eaters. Virginia sighed as she got dressed: she leaned in an armchair and looked at the rain pouring down. It was like being back in England and she cold do nothing but think about her home and her family. Her birthday was closer and she would come of age: there had been a time when she was impatient to turn seventeen, because it meant the end of school, a job and the so craved independence. In that time Virginia had day dreamt about a little house to share with her loved one, but now all her dreams were shattered.

Virginia ordered a cup of tea –just one for herself, she didn't care about Tom, she would not allow herself to care of him in any way: the House Elf arrived almost at once, bringing tea and pastries. The witch sipped the drink slowly, not caring about Nagini's hissing.

"I'm going to complain about your manners with Bianca and Edna," said Tom behind her. "No one told you to order some tea, besides you only ordered one cup instead of two."

Virginia tightened her lips and spat sarcastically. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know I should ask you first."

Tom snorted and took the cup from her hands unceremoniously. "This is a syrup, not tea!" he exclaimed sipping it.

"It's not that sweet, I've put one lump of sugar!" she protested.

He shrugged his shoulders and gulped down the remaining tea.

-°-

**I**t rained for the whole night and the dawn found a clear sky and a soft and fresh wind wiped the last clouds away, and the sunny weather pout Tom in a good mood. Tom decided to spend the day at the hotel's private beach, where there wouldn't be Muggles to bother them, and he told the receptionist to serve them lunch there.

Such behaviour shocked Virginia, it was so strange watch the Dark Lord Voldemort act as… well as a common man: he was friendly with the adults and sympathetically testy with children. But his… cheerfulness? Peace of mind? It was somewhat contagious and after not even half an hour Virginia felt the same. Just like the first day they spent in Capri, in was as if there were no war –fought on opposite fronts- between the two of them: they didn't looked like a torturer and his victim, but like a couple on holiday.

In the afternoon, Tom and Virginia splashed each other, as if they were children again: they were holding a simple happiness –or a good imitation of it- in their hands and it was as if nothing could change it. They chased each other, and when Tom caught her, he hugged her, kissing her fondly.

"Are you happy, Virginia?" he whispered staring into her cornelian eyes.

"I would be if I was at home."

The spell was broken.

Tom fixed Virginia coldly, tightening his lips incensed; then he let her go abruptly and without saying a word, he took their things, grabbed her wrist violently and they went back to the hotel.

The receptionist was surprised to see them check out before the fixed date, and asked if they were disappointed with the service: Tom didn't reply; he just tossed a pouch of galleons on the counter.

-°-

**B**ianca was surprised by their sudden arrival at Santa Eufemia, after all she had suggested Tom that little trip: a holiday from himself and the Death Eaters' activity, and a chance to test himself.

Tom wanted no one to bother him and in the following days, he woke up earlier than usual and when to North Wisteria, where he dealt with his prisoners. Virginia didn't know how she felt toward those wizards and witches: she felt sorry for them, because she knew they were horribly tortured and then killed in the slowest and most painful way; but on the other hand she felt happy to not have Tom torturing her in ways subtler than a Cruciatus Curse. Nevertheless something nagged at the back of her head, like a bothersome insect: it was a strange feeling, like the awareness something was gong to happen, like an indefinite expectation or a tension.

One morning a owl arrived at Santa Eufemia, and once she read the letter, Bianca paled and ordered Virginia to not go out her chamber –she even putted a locking spell on the girl's room's door- and she left for North Wisteria. Virginia spent the day locked in her bedroom, seeing no one but the housekeeper, at lunchtime.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but the missus forbid it," she replied when Virginia said she wanted to have a walk in the garden –and maybe take advantage of it and find a way to communicate with her family.

The young witch was unable to sleep that night, she was worried and she didn't know why. She stared at the stuccoed ceiling through the see-through drapery of her four-poster: Virginia couldn't find the key of what was happening around her. Why had Tom changed his attitude when she told him she would be happy if she were at home? That was an obvious answer and he could not demand you could be happy with him.

"You're delusional, Tom," Virginia thought aloud, closing her eyes. "if you think you could change what I feel just because you snap your fingers."

.: ° :.

**V**oices. Excited voices, which became slowly clearer.

"… -hey don't have the right to tell me what I have or haven't to do!"

Virginia sat on the bed as she heard Tom's voice: he sounded like he was in a very bad mood. The girl rubbed her eyes, feeling not fully awake: fighting against her will to go back to sleep. She got up and walked toward the door silently to find out what was happening – and strongly wishing she had an Extensible Ear right now.

"Don't think I'm pleased to know they are nosing into my business." Bianca's voice, instead, was calm and slightly tired. "But we have to examine facts: the Confraternity have not taken sides so far, and we know this is thousands times better than it being our enemy.

"But, if because of a twist of Fate, we give them a reason to side against us…"

"I know what would happen, and that's why I want at least Isabella and the aunts on our side: I could use resources the Ministry don't know about.

"So, I should do as they want just like I have to accede to you sister's wishes? That's simply ludicrous!"

"Then what should we do?" There was a strange urgency in Bianca's voice. "We have to keep in mind that it would soften their position toward us if we accept their request."

"We are not sure of it, Bianca, and I have no intention to show-"

And Virginia was unable to ear more. She leaned against the door, wondering what they were talking about and why Tom was so upset. She jumped as she heard Tom yelling something to Bianca: whatever was the reason of his anger; it had to be very serious.

-°-

**I**t was as if something was bothering Tom: right after lunch, he told Bianca to go alone to the Death Eaters meeting in the afternoon.

"I can't focus on the meeting if I don't deal with that problem first," he said rather irritated.

Bianca nodded. "Don't worry, I won't call you unless it's very important.

"Why don't' you take a warm bath? It'll help you to make up your mind," she said sympathetic, and then she addressed to Virginia. "You, your room, now, and don't dare to come out before I'll be back!"

And once again Virginia was locked in her chamber, alone with her thoughts.

-°-

**I**n the next two days, the situation merely worsened: Tom was testy and hardly spoke, as if he could not make his mind up. Bianca worried about her cousin, and tried to do her best to help him: they talked in hushed voices and silenced whenever they noticed Virginia eavesdropping on them.

"You have a very serious case of bad manners!" Bianca burst at the end. "Is it impossible for us to have a private conversation! You asked for it!"

Virginia stamped angrily her feet when she was locked for the umpteenth time in her bedroom: she wasn't an animal! Huffing she sat on her bed, folding her arms: she was tired of being treated that way, and most of all she was tired of not knowing why they were treating her in that way. Was it because of something she was somewhat involved in? Or was she just something –some one- to take it out on? Virginia stretched, leaning down on the bed: it was useless to cudgel her brains; she would only get a headache and would resolve nothing. She closed her eyes; after all a nap would do her good.

In her half-sleep, Virginia barely sensed the creaking of the mattress, a hand stroking her blood red tresses, and tumid and silky lips where her jaw and neck joined, just below her ear. Virginia turned her head and looked sleepily at Tom: he was leaning over her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Then he stooped, the tip of his nose grazed her ear.

"For once I would like to... I would wish you to make love with me without... any spell."

Virginia leant on her elbows, looking at him as if she saw him for the first time: what was happening? Why right then had Tom asked and not claimed?

She lowered her eyes: sometime she had wondered how it would be without that hateful spell, but she had laughed hysterically and she had pushed away that thought, but now that she had the opportunity to find out. She didn't know what to do. She looked at him in the faint light of the room and opened the mouth to reply, but she didn't utter word.

Tom laid a hand on her cheek and kissed her, stroking gently her lips with his own: Virginia didn't withdraw, but she, after some minutes of hesitation, she kissed him back, lacing her arms around him, pulling him upon herself.

Tom was extremely slow and tender, as if he wanted to taste every instant, every inch of her skin. His skilled, tapering fingers grazed, pressed and pinched her skin with infuriating delicacy, just where she craved his touch: and Virginia understood that nobody knew or would have known her body better than him, not even she.

It was as if the time had stopped for them, while a calm tide of bliss and pleasure rose in them. A jarring note, an instant of pain, and then the first, real discovery of love: it wasn't an invasion, but something harmonious and natural, like two perfectly jammed puzzle pieces. Not the wild lust induced by magic, but something placid and kind saturated every cell of their bodies, as if from the primordial depths of the flesh a hand rose to play the melodic strings of the soul.

The air echoed with whispers and sighs, scarcely overpowered by the chirping of the crickets. Virginia languidly opened her eyes and looked at him: Tom's expression was so entranced and ecstatic, so similar to suffering, and he too looked at her, his eyes shinning like twin stars.

The pleasure wasn't a pyrotechnic display, like her roommates used to say, but it was a sublime feeling growing from the depths of her self and saturating slowly her body, like spring water, cool and clear, filling a jar.

And the water overflowed.

Tom rolled at her side, his eyes closed, his beautiful fleshy lips slightly opened, and he breathed in short gasps. Virginia sat on the bed and then, feeling dizzy, she cuddled up in his arms, and he welcomed her, stroking her hair. She didn't care where she was, didn't care if the man holding her was her enemy, she cared about nothing and nobody: Virginia cared only of the feel of completeness and comfort wrapping her like a cocoon of silk -the silk of his skin. They stayed in this way, in each other's arms for what seemed a long time, and then Tom looked at the clock.

He sank his face in her violet smelling hair. "It's late, we have to get ready."

"Are we leaving again?"

"Yes."

"Where will we go this time?"

"I'm taking you back home."

Virginia raised her head; a new wave of dizziness hit her. She stared into his eyes. "This is a joke in bad taste."

"It isn't a joke: your family waits you at five in the afternoon, you have a quarter of hour to get ready."

She looked at him speechless, and then she kissed him on an impulse and rushed out of the bed.

-°-

**B**ianca and Tom were waiting for her in the hall, talking excitedly about something, but they stopped as they noticed her.

"Before you go, we have something to do." Bianca clapped her hands and Filomena came with a silvery tray: there was a wine filled black opal goblet, a parchment and matches. Bianca handed the parchment to Virginia. "Read these words, just don't mind their meaning."

Virginia looked hesitant at her, and arching an eyebrow, she read the rhyme and, following the woman's instructions, she burned the parchment.

Bianca collected the ashes and melted them in the wine. "Give me your hand, Virginia," she demanded.

The girl did as required, but she for an instant wanted to withdraw it: with clinical precision, Bianca pricked her finger with a silvery pin and a blood drop fell in the liqueur. "Now drink."

"What is it?" asked Virginia wary.

"Nothing that will hurt you. Do not force me to use the Imperious Curse for a stupid thing like this."

Virginia drank hesitant: it was as if the wine imbues her body and mind.

Tom said goodbye his cousins and then laced an arm around Virginia's shoulders. "We'll Apparate," he said, "I have no intention of meeting people I would like to kill there and then."

That was the first time Virginia Apparated: they Apparated in Wizarding Rome, somewhere in Provence, then in Le Havre and finally on a badly off way and under wild trees, they could see the Burrow's grungy silhouette beyond the wood. Without letting her go, Tom accompanied Virginia to the woody gate marking the property's entrance, the girl looked longingly at the paternal house with the smoking chimney pots.

Tom squeezed her the arm to attract her attention, to prevent her running to her family. "Bianca will send you your belongings tomorrow."

Virginia looked at him and nodded absent-mindedly.

They looked uncomfortable; the wind insinuated in the belt of trees raising a whirlwind of dead leaves.

Feverish lips that searched and found relief in a forbidden kiss; hands that grabbed like a castaway grabs on to a wreckage hoping for salvation from the stormy sea; each felt as if something harpooned their hearts, their soul, drawing each toward the other.

Brusquely Tom pushed Virginia away, his hands on her shoulders, his arms stretched, and his eyes low. "Go, go before I change my mind!"

Virginia looked at him surprised, stunned, upset. Then she bit her lower lip and reached the gate: before opening it, she looked at Tom one last time. He refused to look at her. The girl sighed and followed the path to home.

When he heard the gate close, Tom raised his eyes, and hidden in the shadow of the trees, he watched her walking through the garden, lingering on the doorstep and finally she entered. Tom left only when the door was closed.

Virginia walked through the garden where she had spent the cheerful and innocent days of her childhood with her brothers, playing at chasing gnomes and butterflies: she didn't need to turn, she felt his eyes on her, as if he was watching over her. The young witch lingered on the doorstep, holding the handle. She then took a depth breath and entered.

"I am at home."

* * *

**A/N:** You know I usully don't write an author note, inless it it for an important reason. 

I'll leave Italy within then days and I don't know when I'll be able to update again, it may be at Christmas time, when i'll come back home for a short holiday, maybe later. This is not a goodbye, neither an elegant way to say I'm giving China Doll up: I'll keep on writing it with the old means, ink and paper.

Rose, la Reine Mauvaise

* * *

i Fake happiness in a nutshell. 


	10. Doll's House

**.: X :.**

**Doll's House**

It had been a hard year for the Weasley family. When the Aurors announced Ginny's abduction, Molly blamed Arthur for allowing her baby girl to attend that Mediwitchery summer course. The fight that followed that accusation was the worst in their twenty-eight years of marriage. In the days following the fight Arthur didn't come back home, under the pretext of his job at the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix's activities.

Harry could do nothing but feel guilty: Ginny and him have been dating since the end of April –right after she split up with Zabini, a it was obvious to him that he was the reason for her kidnapping. Remus Lupin did his best to convince him to not act without consulting anyone, promising him that the Order would do everything to find out where Ginny was and to save her.

"I have no idea of where she could be," said Severus Snape. "I know the Lestranges partook to the kidnapping: I thought that by provoking Rabastan, he would let something slip … but it was useless."

And they could do nothing but wait.

Molly had a serious breakdown when the coffin and the tombstone sent by the Dark Lord were delivered at the Burrow. She went into St. Mungos, and the First Lady was among the first people to visit her. Mrs Fudge offered the poor mother her help and comforted her with words as sweet as honey. She visited Molly almost daily, and before she was sent back home, the older woman ordered to buy a new clock.

"It's broken, since the girl's hand is still on mortal peril," Mrs Fudge explained to Bill, "surely you can imagine the effect it could have on your mother's nerves."

And slowly, the Weasley gave up the hope to see Ginny again.

But there was something good, a small consolation, and thanks to that Ginny's kidnapping, Percy reconciled with his family: for a whole year he had been too proud to admit he was wrong. In her rare letters she sent to him the previous year, Ginny wrote him to be a man who laid aside his pride to make amends for his behaviour. The reconciliation was slow and difficult, but Percy was at the Burrow when Molly came back home from St. Mungos. All five sons living in Britain were now close to their mother, and Charlie's owls arrived every day and he flooed home every other day.

The following winter was cruel, the weather was freezing, and the Death Eaters' activities increased and they seemed to act without logic. Azkaban was once again attacked and it seemed the Dementors were on the Dark Lord's side. That was a long and tiring battle, but at the end the Aurors regained control over the prison and the Dementors.

"It's pretence!" Moody said after the battle. "It's not that easy to regain control over the Dementors!" but no one cared about what the old Auror said.

Then spring came and the birth of Charlotte Malfoy seemed to confirm the hypothesis that some runaways were hiding in Malfoy Manor.

"You are heartless! Her father never ever saw my daughter, how could you even think he's here?" said Narcissa Malfoy, crying, while holding her baby as the truth spells confirmed her words.

Nonetheless, the abode was carefully inspected. Bill volunteered for the Spellbreakers squad, hoping to find something –anything- about his sister. Surprisingly Malfoy Manor passed the test with flying colours and the Ministry's employers went back home with their tails between their legs.

But in July an owl arrived for Mrs Weasley from Miss Isolde Melusine Zabini. The letter informed the Weasleys that Virginia was alive and healthy and that everything was being done to bring the girl home. Mrs Fudge said that was a cruel joke, adding they shouldn't trust a girl with loose morals but hope was back in Molly's heart.

_Dear Mrs Weasley,_

_I am delighted to announce that, after long and difficult negotiations, your daughter Virginia will be at last returned to her family on the fourth day before the ides of August X August, at around five in the afternoon._

_My heart rejoices with both you and your loved ones, because of the natural joy begotten from a lost and found child and of also that of a righted injustice._

_Isolde M. Zabini, G.E. _

Charlie took one week off to be at the Burrow that day, and he had a pleasant surprise: he came with Alexandra, one of his colleagues, whom in due course would become his wife.

Bill sighed, leaning against the door's jamb. His mother was sitting before the fireplace, holding hands with her husband, her eyes fixed on the flames. Fred and George were busy with helium balloons and confetti, as Charlie and Percy rearranged the food on the table. Sitting on a settle, Penelope was talking with Alexandra, helping her with her English. Harry, Ron and Hermione would arrive as soon as they finished with their last exam for the Auror Academy. Madeye Moody was the only member of the Order to be there, because he wanted to be sure it was really Ginny, and not a Death Eater posing as her. Bill's eyes caressed his wife, who was sitting in the best armchair. Fleur seemed even more beautiful, her breasts swollen with milk as her pregnancy draws to an end.

Feeling restless, Bill glanced one last time at the fireplace. "I… I can't wait anymore," he said, massaging the bridge of his nose and turning towards the door. "Blow up a firecracker as soon as Ginny arrives."

"Sure!"

"Fred, George! Don't dare even to think about that!" Molly reproached them. "And you, Bill..."

Bill gave a cheeky smile to her mother and winked at her.

He was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard the door open and a barely audible, yet emotion-filled, "I am at home". Bill turned, staring at the girl lingering on the threshold.

"Ginny?" he whispered incredulously.

The girl raised her eyes on him and a smile bloomed on her lips. "Bill!"

The young wizard went down the stairs three at a time and hugged tightly his sister, both laughing like children. At the sound of Ginny's voice, the others rushed to the entrance. Molly was crying and was almost afraid to touch her daughter, fearing it could be just a beautiful dream; Fred and George lit up some cold fireworks, and whizzes and multicoloured sparks filled the little room; Arthur could do nothing but caress his daughter's face and whisper "my little princess", as he used to do when she was a little girl. Moody was the only one to not share that happiness: he yelled for more than half an hour that first they had to be sure she was indeed Ginny.

Charlie rolled his eyes and said: "You know, Ginny, Norbert is a she."

"Really? Is she hatching? Hagrid would be pleased to known he'll be a grandpa," she laughed.

"Dear Circe, I didn't know Rubeus had a child!" Arthur exclaimed in utter surprise.

Charlie and Ginny glanced at each other and burst out laughing, as the others looked at them, puzzled. "Don't worry Moody, she's really my sis," Charlie said, hugging the girl again and the display of joy became noisier and more exuberant than before.

Ginny gladly let her family smother her with kisses: how much she had missed them all, and that sense of security, to be protected from the world's dangers. She was so happy she almost couldn't bear it, and she began to cry. "I… I thought I would never ever see you again…" she sobbed.

Molly hugged her daughter, lovingly patting her back. "Hush, you're at home, honey, you're with us now…"

"And you, Moody, shoo! This is a private party!"

The old Auror grumbled and he went away saying: "See you tomorrow."

About one hour later, Ron, Harry and Hermione arrived with Angelina, and they joined the welcome back home party.

"You know, the others wanted to come here today too," said Ron, filling his own plate, "but you'll meet them all tomorrow: Aunt Cynthia will throw a birthday party for you."

"And we have to celebrate Bill's new job as well," added Fleur, stroking a scar crossing her husband's face with her forefinger.

"Job?" wondered Ginny, "What job is it?"

"He was asked to teach Charms at Hogwarts, and he accepted. We have rented a cottage at Hogsmeade, and we're moving in next week."

"Really? I expected Professor Binns to retire, not Professor Flitwick! Tomorrow I'll congratulate the Headmaster for his choice, you'll be a great teacher Bill!" Ginny laughed. "And then, I have to tell him something too," she added whispering, feeling as if she had to share with Professor Dumbledore what she now knew about the Dark Lord.

A heavy silence fell on the Burrow's garden. Arthur took a glass to his lips nervously. "Actually, Professor Flitwick didn't retire, it's just… well, the governors liked him better than McGonagall to be the new Headmaster."

Ginny fixed her father as if she didn't understand what he had just said. Molly sobbed and got up, saying with a broken voice that she was going to fetch the cake.

"Professor Dumbledore is dead, Ginny," Harry said at last.

It was as if Ginny's world crumbled, now who would she confide in about what she knew about the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord? She couldn't trust the Ministry, knowing that Mrs Fudge herself was one of Lord Voldemort's most devoted followers!

Mr Weasley squeezed gently her shoulder. "I'm sorry princess, I didn't want your welcome back home party to end in this way…"

.: ° :.

**T**om was restless: this was the first time he couldn't sleep since the night he got his body back. Why couldn't he take the image of Virginia lingering on the Burrow door? Why did he feel as if he… he not even dared to think that.

He pushed the sheets away and got up. He opened a window, letting the breeze caress him as he looked at the violet sea and the sky, which was turning white, signalling the beginning of another day. Without knowing why, Tom put on his trousers and shirt, as well as the previous day's sock and shoes.

He went out on the terrace, breathing the salty air that was scented with summer. As he went down to the garden, the fragrances inebriated him and he felt his head becoming lighter and lighter, freer and freer from inappropriate thoughts. He walked toward the wildest part of Santa Eufemia, where an ancient incantation had stopped time and left it as an eternal spring. There he took a tiny branch and whipped the tender grass. Slowly he felt… he didn't know exactly what he was feeling, but it was strong and heady, as if he had drunk too muck wine.

It was the beginning of a folly.

He picked daisies with still sleeping corollas; wild roses that scratched his hands and asphodels, about which a myth had said they carpets Limbo. He picked branches of blooming myrtle and periwinkles and brooms and gorse and climbing and every kind of herb and wild flower that he met on his walk. After awhile he held a forest of wild flowers in his arms. Then the feeling of intoxication was so strong that Tom began to laugh. Not his usual cold and sadistic one, but a fresh and genuine laughter like that of a child discovering the world and was still able to feel wonder at the sight of a butterfly. And Tom laughed, sensing with footstep a slipping stem, a flower spreading petals on his shirt's sleeves, a breaking branch.

Ginny was awakened by something falling on her chest. In her arms, she found a great bunch of wild flowers. Without wondering about where that unexpected spring came, she tightened her grip around the flowers. Ignoring the scratches, she was ecstatic looking at their simple beauty and inhaling their fragrant scent. Then she spread her arms, the flowers now covering the bed. It was then that she noticed it: hooked to an ivy shoot, there was a brooch - two emeralds snakes biting their tails, coiled as the symbol for infinity, and enamelled ivy's leaflets and tiny coral berries completed the fine jewel.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the Meridiæ coat of arms: she looked fearfully at the broken window, breathing frantically. She could sense his presence in the garden.

"Wasssup Ginny?" said Hermione sleepily, as the other girl climbed over her. "Where are you going!" she added with alarm in her voice.

Ginny didn't hear her, she ran down the stairs and opened the entrance door - no one was in the garden but a couple of gnomes who watched her curiously. She walked around the house, glancing at every bush and every tree. She was almost frantic, feeling as if a part of her heart was being torn apart and threw away. What should she have done if she saw Tom there? Why was she thinking about him? She was back at home with her beloved family, that was all that mattered.

Ginny yelled as she backed into someone.

"Dear God, you scared me, Ginny! What are you doing here?" said Hermione, panting.

"I…" Ginny bit her lower lip, trying to think of a witty answer. Should she tell Hermione she thought the Dark Lord was at the Burrow? "I think Fred and George threw those flowers in my bed."

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "I wonder when the two of them will grow up…"

Ginny merely nodded and went back inside the house, glancing at the spot where she last saw Tom.

.: ° :.

"Ginny!" chorused three girls, involving the young girl in a group hug as she arrived at Perlandwell. This was a small estate in Yorkshire that was part of Cynthia Miller's dowry when she married Michael Weasley, Arthur's uncle. No one knew why Aunt Cynthia had volunteered to organize a party for Ginny, she wasn't Aunt Cynthia's favourite relative.

"Audrey, Chantal, Asia, you're choking me," replied Ginny, but still hugging them back.

"I told you that was a bad idea," laughed one of them, swinging her long silvery blonde hair: at a first glance, you would mistake Asia for a Malfoy, only to find out she was actually a Muggleborn.

"We were so lonely without you last year," added a black girl, ignoring Asia and giving Ginny a tighter hug.

"Oi girls, say cheese!" exclaimed Colin, waving his hand to attract their attention to take the first of many photographs

Everybody that Ginny knew was at Perlandwell, from Ginny's dorm mates to the members of the Order. Even great grandmother Roisin was there, and she hasn't left Ireland since Bill's birth. Ginny was so happy: not even twenty-four hours ago she thought she would never seen her loved ones again, and now she was celebrating her birthday with them. After everybody wished Ginny a happy birthday, they moved to the back garden, where a long table loaded with food and drinks stood on to side. The people lingered on the grass, talking and laughing.

"Where's Loveday?" asked Lupin, looking around worriedly.

"She's around somewhere with her boyfriend, don't worry," Alexandria Sparrow, Mr Weasley's assistant, replied nonchalantly.

"That's why I'm worried, Alex!" he exclaimed. "I'm her tutor, and I know Sirius would never forgive me if something happens to her!"

Mrs Weasley patted sympathetically his back. "Come on, you can't mollycoddle her. Look, there she is!" she pointed out, "And she isn't alone."

Unable to hide her concern, Molly continued "Is your relationship still difficult?"

The wizard nodded, fixing his eyes on a dark-haired girl. "She's still wondering why the Ministry allowed a Halfblood werewolf to be her tutor. Moreover, it isn't easy to make her accept the truth about Sirius."

They looked at each other, and Alexandria sighed. "What did you expect, Remus? She grew up thinking her father abandoned her, and you knew Sirius better than anyone else. At least she isn't calling him names anymore," she said sympathetically, her eyes boring into his.

Molly looked around embarrassed and decided to leave the couple alone.

Noticing that they were almost out of sandwiches, Molly went in the kitchen to fetch some more. She was also thinking about Remus and Alex, wondering why he had preferred her to Tonks. Miss Sparrow wasn't a bad girl; she was a hard worker, and Arthur spoke highly of his assistant. She was even in the Order now, and Alexandria was as old as Percy, making her one of the youngest members of the Order. Mrs Weasley sighed, it wasn't her business, she should be happy for her friends.

"Mum! Mum, Ginny went off with that Snake!" announced an incensed Ron, storming into the kitchen.

"Don't be rude, Ron."

"But don't you, don't you disapprove!"

"Dear Merlin, am I an bad mother," replied Mrs Weasley, handing a tray to her youngest son. "I don't like the idea of my own daughter alone with a Slytherin, but we have to thank Mr Zabini that she's back home, so we have to at least be civil with him. And are they actually alone or is one of your brothers watching them?"

**B**laise glanced over his shoulder, chuckling slightly. "I wonder if he realize that I know he's spying on us."

Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue at George, who tried to hide behind a tree trunk. "Can't they leave me alone?" She complained loudly while glancing at her brother.

"I think that'll be impossible, Virginia: they thought you were lost forever…

"Thanks Danu, Melinda's distracting him, she's such a dear."

Ginny smiled as she led Blaise to the greenhouse. They didn't talk until they were inside the iron and glass structure, both looking somewhat embarrassed.

"You know, Blaise, Aunt Cynthia has a rare plant in her greenhouse," Ginny said suddenly, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence. "The name's so complicated and long that I can't remember it! Come, I'll show you," she exclaimed, grabbing his hand.

But Blaise wrapped her in an embrace. "You don't know how much I've missed you…" he whispered, brushing her temple with his lips. "I did as much as possible to… and now you're here with me."

Ginny blushed violently at those words and at the sudden closeness: something inside her made her feel almost uneasy. "Blaise, I… are you sure -"

"I don't care that I'm not your..." He paused, unable to finish. He tried again, "only a fool would not realize what _he_ did to you," he said, raising her face to look into her eyes. "It would take more the amoral behaviour of a psychopath to change what I feel," he ended, kissing her.

Ginny didn't know why, but something was wrong. Despite what had happened during this past year, she still loved Blaise, yet kissing him seemed somewhat… wrong.

These weren't the lips she knew. The lips she knew were more feverish, arrogant and tender at the same time. The lips she knew grazed hers shyly and stealthily, as if they wanted to swallow her lips; and they were smooth like silk and soft like cotton candy. The lips she knew kissed her with a passion that wrapped around her like a flame and needed her as if their very existence depended upon her.

The kiss that Ginny knew was Tom's kiss.

Ginny drew away, slowing lowering her head. "I'm no longer the same girl from a year ago," she whispered slowly. "You can't love some one you don't know anymore."

"It is natural to change with the passing of the time, we can get to know each other all over again!" exclaimed Blaise, grabbing her shoulders. "You just need to… want it."

Dismayed, she stared at him with watery eyes. "That's the thing, Blaise. I'm not sure what I want anymore."

.: ° :.

Rabastan sat back in an armchair, bending his head backward and closing his eyes. He was tired, just like the other Death Eaters around him. It had been a fatiguing afternoon, talked about the details for their next attack, and more importantly, about the changes in the Dark Lord.

"Can't we just kill the brat?" Bellatrix suggested, sitting the arm of Rodolphus' armchair.

"The most drastical remedy is not always the best," Erzsèbet replied quietly. "I know our Lord better than all of you together: it's only a fleeting whim, it'll pass."

"That doesn't change the fact that his behaviour is quite worrying. He had always taken part at our meetings, even if it was only to decide upon nonsense." another Death Eater replied thoughtfully.

Bianca sighed, massaging her temples. "That's pretty true Dominic, but he has… different priorities right now. As he made known to me a couple of days ago, he doesn't feel like coming if he's unable to properly focus on our agenda."

Bellatrix snorted. "Really? And what would be more important than giving the Magical race its proper place in the world? Is it something about your lovable sister?"

Bianca tightened her lips and narrowed her eyes to two tiny fissures. She did not reply, and Rodolphus interjected: "Please, ladies, when would you stop with this rivalry?"

"Are you… are you defending her, Rod!" his wife said enraged.

"I'm defending anyone, Bella. But it's not our fault that you don't realize how noxious that jealousy of yours is."

The two women glared at each other. Bianca snorted, turning her head to the other side, while Bellatrix got up and walked toward the door. "I'm going to the dungeon."

"Don't kill or drive anyone crazy," said Rabastan. "Remember we have to be in Newcastle within two and a half hours!"

"Speaking of the attack," said the Death Eater called Dominic. "Is Loveday going to be there?"

"Oh no, have you forgotten she's busy twenty four-seven? She can't jeopardize her position inside the Order," replied Rodolphus softly. "That's why Edna made it easy for the werewolf to become Loveday's guardian."

"That reminds me," said Mrs Fudge spoke up suddenly, "I have to suggest to Amos Diggory to control Mr Lupin. Mr. Lupin may take Wolfsbane Potion every month, but I won't risk the life of a dear young lady like Loveday." The people around her nodded, approving her diligence with hushed voices. If the Dark Lord values her so much, it wasn't only because of her position as First Lady. "Anyway, they'll never suspect her, she isn't marked. And it's the same thing for François, Juan-"

"Wait wait wait!" exclaimed Rabastan. "I'm getting lost. I know François is Lesmaudit's nephew, but who's Juan? This is the first time I have heard of him…"

Edna and Brighit looked at each other, then Edna said: "He's Madrilena's son."

"Madrilena's son!" exclaimed Rabastan, Dominic and a third Death Eater - Ean Mulciber- in unison, all three of them sounding surprised. "I didn't know that…" they all muttered.

"She was a… free spirit," said Brighit quietly, looking out the window.

"And tell me, who is supposed to be the father?" asked Ean nonchalantly. "If his blood isn't pure-"

"That's a very poor excuse! You know Madrilena, do you think she would let herself get pregnant by someone unworthy? Moreover, she had never been interested in having a husband," replied Brighit. "Anyway, I suppose she told the identity of Juan's father to Rosa and Astrid."

"Both they're both dead," Rabastan whispered mournfully.

Brighit shrugged her shoulder, not caring about the trivial problems of her three friends. The most important thing for her was to know that there were indeed worthy people who would take her place among the Dark Lord's ranks when she dies.

.: ° :.

Eventually, the thirteenth of August came. And because Arthur preferred for Ginny to be questioned as late as possible, he was very surprised when his daughter herself asked to be heard by the Aurors as soon as possible. You would say she was impatient to reveal what she knew about the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. Actually, at first she was slightly upset when she found out that she would have to share her information with the Ministry's Aurors, but Arthur did his best to let Tonks and Shacklebolt be the ones to question his daughter.

Ginny lingered before the fireplace, feeling her blood boil as she saw Edna Fudge coming out from another fireplace, The First Lady gracefully dusted off her dress robe, with the contrite attitude of someone with a terrible secret and doesn't know if she should share it or not.

"Ah ah, you can keep on with your act, but everybody'll know who you really are within an hour!" Ginny muttered under her breath, hiding a wicked smile as she walked with her father toward the elevator.

When they arrived at the second level, they headed for Scrimgeour's office, where the Head of the Aurors, a secretary and the two members of the Order were waiting for them. They greeted each other quite formally, but Tonks winked at Ginny as she offered her a chair.

"There is no need for you to stay, Mr Weasley," said Scrimgeour, noticing that the father had taken another chair. "This is a mere formality, and you have your own job to do."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but then he noticed Kingsley shaking slightly his head. He sighed sadly, and placing a kiss atop of Ginny's head, he whispered. "Don't worry, little princess, as soon as you are done, come in my office."

She nodded and smiled at her father, while accepting the cup of tea Tonks was handing her.

Rufus Scrimgeour's eyes followed Arthur Weasley as he walked out of the office. He then nodded to his secretary, who accioed a quill and a piece of parchment over, and he asked the girl to tell them what had happened in the last year. Ginny started to tell what happened during the ambush at the Knight Bus, answering every question the old Auror asked her. But when she started talking about her awakening after her kidnapping, she felt oddly ill, as if something was scratching her insides, and moreover she wasn't able to properly remember _everything_!

Scrimgeour seemed to realize something was wrong, because suddenly he asked her if one of the Death Eaters had cursed her.

"N-no… unless it happened before I got my soul back," she replied pensively.

The old Auror sighed, pursing his lip. "All right, then, I'll ask Doctor Smith to visit you. I hope you realize that you are the only prisoner of the Death Eaters to have come back alive and… sane."

Ginny nodded slightly, sipping a glass of water as her throat suddenly felt dry and itchy. She was about to resume her tale, when someone knocked on the door. Scrimgeour nodded to Shacklebolt, who opened the door with the intention to dismiss the intruder. But the younger Auror's eyes almost popped out as he saw Edna Fudge.

"Excuse my interrupting you, Mr Scrimgeour, but… I need to talk with you, urgently," the sniffling old witch said with a broken voice.

"What's wrong, Aunty Edna?" asked Tonks, quite worried.

Scrimgeour sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs Fudge, but this isn't a good moment for a chat."

"B-but I…" Edna said, and then she bit her lower lip and whispered. "All right, Mr Scrimgeour, I hope you don't mind if I'll wait here until you have done."

Ginny felt her blood froze in her veins. What was Mrs Fudge up to? Why did she pop in during the questioning? Was she… trying to control her! Ginny tightened her lips, looking defiantly at the First Lady. Edna Fudge looked back at her, hiding her sneer behind the edge of a cup of tea.

"Where were we?" said Ginny, slightly hysterical. "Ah, yes, now I remember!"

"I suppose you suspect that there are Death Eaters among the Ministry employers, right?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," replied Kingsley, wondering why she had changed topic so suddenly.

" And I suppose the ones you have been able to catch so far have all been small fries. But I think you could take care of some… big shots, both here and inside the Death Eaters' inner circle," Ginny said, coughing harder and harder, throwing a satisfied look to Mrs Fudge, who was trying her best to look cool.

"Who are you talking about, Ms Weasley?" asked Scrimgeour with a whisper, leaning closer towards the girl.

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly everything went black.

.: ° :.

The sun beamed through the window, painfully hitting Ginny's eyes. Waking up in a St. Mungos' bed wasn't a pleasant experience, it makes some one fears for the worst.

The young witch shielded her eyes with a hand, smelling a flower's scent mixed with the typical aseptic smell of hospitals. She hated that smell, it made her think of the summer after her first year, when she was hospitalized to be "cured" from the Dark Lord's possession. _That_ definitely wasn't a pleasant experience.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to the light, Ginny looked around the room. There were six beds, but only the one at the far end of the room was currently occupied by a wizard, where a nurse in her pristine dress robe was bandaging his torso. There was a bunch of flowers on her bedside table, and she recognized them as the ones her mother grew in the Burrow's garden. Ginny sighed, letting the nurse check her temperature as she stared at the clock on the opposite wall.

"Why am I here?" she asked with a thin voice.

The nurse shrugged her shoulders, replying with a bored voice. "You had a kind of a seizure, but we can't tell you what the cause is yet. Doctor Moro is still waiting your tests' result."

Ginny sighed, turning on her side and placing her cheek on the palm of her hand. Something told her that this was Mrs Fudge's fault. Surely the woman had hexed her or something… nah, it was impossible, there were three Aurors with them, and it would've been too risky. She didn't know why, but she felt that Galene would probably be able to tell her what happened. The nurse was gone now, leaving the two patients alone. Ginny closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone, she just wanted to sort out what had happened. She tried to remember what had happened at the Ministry, reliving every moment as if it was a film. But it didn't matter how hard she tried, she could only recall how she was feeling more and more ill as she started answering the Aurors' questions.

The opening of the door distracted her from those thoughts, as she glanced at the mediwizard who walked in. He looked younger than Lupin and was a handsome man, with a tired expression on his face and a smell of gin and tobacco around him. The mediwizard asked the other patient a couple of questions before he approached Ginny's bed and read her case sheet. "How are you, Ms Weasley?" he asked without moving his eyes from the sheet.

"I'm fine, I suppose." she replied, reading _Dr. T.L. Moro_ on the badge pinned on his chest. "Why am I here?" she asked again.

Doctor Moro didn't reply, he sat on a nearby chair and checked her pulse, and then he pointed the tip of his wand in her eyes, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Odd," he thought out loud, "very odd."

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, almost panicking.

"Apart from a dehydration and a vitamin deficiency, it seems you are pretty healthy, hence I can't medically explain your seizure."

"While you were…" he hesitated, trying to express his doubts painlessly. "Did they cursed you?" and there was no need to explain who _they_ were.

Ginny nodded, lowering her head. "Yes, Cruciatus Curses and…"

"I wasn't talking about those kinds of spells. Anyway, a Spellbreaker will examine you, just to be safe," ended the mediwizard.

Ginny was speechless and then she snorted. Obviously, Lord Voldemort wouldn't let you go back home alive and well without taking a couple of precautions.

In the following hours a Ministry's Spellbreaker, who could find nothing but the traces of past spells, had visited Ginny.

"I'm sorry, but I can't find any signs of active spells or curses," said the Spellbreaker to Doctor Moro and Mr and Mrs Weasley. "Unless… no, it's impossible."

"Unless what!" cried Mrs Weasley hysterically.

The Spellbreaker sighed, shaking his head. "Unless it is a traceless spell, but that's impossible: every time a wizard castes a charm or a hex, he causes an alteration in the magical tissue. But there is a price to pay when you alter the magical tissue. For an everyday spell, for example, it's just a bit of energy that could be recovered with a couple of sweets –that's why usually wizarding people eat more than Muggles. It's this part of ourselves, as well as the slight distortion in the magical tissue that remains after a spell is broken or wears off, that let us know someone's magical history. Since I didn't find in your daughter the traces of a Conspiracy of Silence spell or something else like that, you understand that this hypothesis is simply… absurd."

Arthur and Molly looked at each other sadly, as Doctor Moro said, lighting a cigarette. "We'll do other and more accurate tests."

"But there is no need for you to stay here," he said to Ginny, "I think you can go back home tomorrow morning."

The young witch nodded, felling relieved that her stay at St. Mungos was that short. Arthur follower the Mediwizard and the Spellbreaker to the hallway, talking with low voices. Molly sat on her daughter's bed instead, sighing heavily, as her mind was lost in thousands and thousands thoughts. "At least you're here with me now…" she whispered, smiling at Ginny.

The girl smiled back at her mother, and opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly a rumbling noise in the hallway silenced her. Someone was running frantically, and she heard Mr Weasley exclaim: "What now!"

Gabrielle Delacour appeared in the frame of the door, panting as she caught her breath. "It's a girl!" she exclaimed with a broad smile on her face and eyes shining with joy. "The most beautiful baby girl you have ever seen!"

Mrs Weasley stood up, widening her eyes and placing her hands on her mouth. "When? Where?"

"No more than ten minutes ago, I was waiting with Bill and then he told me you were here and to come and tell you!"

Molly was at loss of what to do, a part of her wanted to stay with Ginny, but another part of her urged her to go and meet her first granddaughter.

Sensing her internal struggle, Ginny laughed. "C'mon, mum, I know you want to go with Gabrielle. But you have to come back here at once to tell me how the baby looks like," she said, winking.

Mrs Weasley hugged her daughter and then she went away with Gabrielle.

.: ° :.

Before they went back home, Ginny wanted to congratulate Fleur and Bill on the birth of their daughter, Cyrille –that was her name- was a beautiful baby girl, who, according to Mrs Weasley, looked a lot like Bill when he was her age. The new parents were simply beaming and every occasion was a good occasion for Bill to talk about his baby girl. At last, normality and happiness were back at the Burrow. Things couldn't be better for the Weasleys. They were reunited and their numbers growing. Now their biggest worries revolved around baby Cyrille and Ginny's health and her exams as she prepares to attend her last year at Hogwarts.

Ginny was studying for her exam with Bill's help while the twins were degnomizing the garden. Even though Fred and George lived in their own flat above their shop, Mrs. Weasley still punishes them whenever they cause trouble at the Burrow. Bill checked the equation his sister was trying to solve.

"I think you should ask Hermione to tutor you, you know I'm not that good in Arithmancy."

"I know, after all nobody can match Hermione. Except..." Ginny bit her lower lip. Tom had been a model student in his days at Hogwarts and a perfect teacher for her.

"Except who Ginny?"

"Never mind. Can you explain this spell to me? I tried it yesterday afternoon but I don't understand why I got it wrong."

Bill smiled and watched Ginny cast the spell, correcting her mistakes. The two siblings were deep in a chapter of a Charms book when they heard a distant rumble, like the noise of a motor. Fred threw a gnome aside and stared at the road crossing the wood as Mrs. Weasley came outside, wiping her hands on her apron. "What's that noise?" She asked.

"I bet it's Harry," George replied, grinning as he stooped over his sister. "He uses Sirius' old motorbike to travel. You know, he doesn't yet have his Apparation license, he failed three times!"

Just then, a big black motorbike appeared on the road, roaring as it came near the Burrow. It stopped and the biker took off the helmet. "Hi, do you mind if I stay at your place for a couple of days?"

**A/N **

**The editing of Doom:** I have a new Beta-reader, MoreEverithing, that's why I've deleted the unbetaed chapters, which are to be placed with the edited one.

**Useless News:** you can find the approved ChiDo's Fanlisting at www DOT delirantrose DOT net SLASH listing SLASH chidofan


	11. Attempts to Normality

**.: XI :.**

_**Attempts to Normality**_

Ginny looked surprisedly at the biker as if she was a strange creature. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Excuse me, is that the proper way to welcome a friend?"

"N-no. sorry, it's just… I would've never expected to see you here, Isa."

Pouting, Isabella stared at her and sniffed as if she was about to cry. "I risked getting lost and came here all alone and you… you are so mean Gin!" she exclaimed, hiding her face in her hands.

Guilty, Ginny approached to comfort her, but as soon as she placed a hand on Isa's shoulder, she put Ginny in a headlock and mussed up her hair, exclaiming, "Aha! You fell for it! Now I'll punish you because you didn't welcome me properly!"

Ginny didn't know if she should be angry with Isabella or not, but after a moment of hesitation, she tickled her in response. The fight lasted no more than a couple of minutes, because Ginny couldn't bear it anymore. Still laughing, she admitted defeat.

Mrs Weasley, Bill, Fred and George looked puzzled at the two girls, then the older brother coughed to get their attention. Embarrassed, Ginny looked at him with red cheeks, but Isa just dusted off her black overalls and grinned nonchalantly.

Bill coughed again. "I'm sorry, Miss, but who are you? You seem to know my sister quite well..."

"How stupid of me, I didn't introduce myself! Isabella Trao, nice to meet you."

Bill first looked at her and then at her outstretched hand, not knowing what to do. After all, he has no idea who this Isabella Trao girl is, and he wondered how, when and where she had met Ginny. Especially since everybody knew his sister didn't have a foreign pen pal. He exchanged a look with his mother, who appeared to share the same thoughts as Bill.

"I'm sorry our welcome isn't exactly warm but…"

"… But in these days you can't allow a stranger in your house if you don't make sure of his/her identity first." Isabella finished for him. " Pretty understandable, really. Anyway Gin knows me well and knows where my loyalty lies, and I'm not afraid of a Truth Spell, I have nothing to hide."

Mrs Weasley bit her lower lip, wondering if she should welcome Isabella to her home or not. She glanced at Ginny, who nodded and smiled. "Don't worry, mum: Isa is… even more Muggle than Hermione." She reassured.

"All right, but I won't let her in until Moody comes here. He may be a bit paranoid, but he's right about safety."

"No problem," said Isabella, shrugging her shoulder. Noticing the way Fred and George were looking her precious Ducati as she was taking down her baggage, she whispered. "_Rotweiler, Doberman e mastini napoletani dei malintenzionati mordete i deretani!_i" then she added grinning, "And now just try to lay a finger on my Du'!"

Isabella followed Ginny to the back garden, while Mrs Weasley flooed Moody from the kitchen's fireplace. The Aurors didn't make people wait, and after a giving a speech about how dangerous it is to open your door to a stranger, Moody cast a truth charm on Isabella. She didn't hide the fact she had ran away from home and she laughed when Moody asked her where her loyalties laid.

"They lie with myself," she replied, still laughing, "both the Ministry and that homicidal maniac can use the Imperious Curse if they want me on their side. _If_ they want to try their luck."

Madeye Moody was simply speechless at that unexpected answer. Nonetheless, Isabella's answers satisfied him and his magical devices didn't reported Isabella as an enemy, so she was allowed to stay.

Once Isabella was allowed inside the house, Ginny took her to her bedroom. The two girls talked till dinnertime, updating each other on what was going on. Even at dinner there was excitement at the Burrow. Mr Weasley was especially excited to meet to meet a young witch who knew the Non-magical world at least ten times better than him.

The following day was even busier. At breakfast Isabella got a Howler from her sister, ordering her to go straight home, and an owl from Hogwarts, which invited the Italian witch to the seventh year's entrance examination.

.: ° :.

The Dark Lord nodded to Rockwood, who bent his head slightly and got up. Holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet, the Death Eater cleared his throat and read aloud.

**MINISTRY BIGWIG DOWN**

_**Cornelius Fudge accused to be a Death Eater. "He may be under the Imperious Curse." Scrimgeour said.**_

_-By Alekej von Versen-_

_The Ministry of Magic is having one of its worst moments in the last twenty years and after the arrest of Cornelius Fudge, the Wizarding community risks falling into mayhem._

_The former Minister has been put into custody last week, but today the secrecy surrounding the event leaked out. It is alleged that an anonymous source reported Fudge to Rufus Scrimgeour, who refused to reveal this person identity. "It's very complicated," said the Auror, "and the inquiry is still in progress. But we think Cornelius Fudge joined You-Know-Who under the Imperious-_

"Augustus, everybody here has read that article," complained a slightly bored Rabastan. "Why don't you read to our Lord the touching interview Mrs Fudge gave to Miss von Versen?"

"You did that?" asked Lord Voldemort, raising an eyebrow at Edna.

"My Lord, it was the only way to avoid having a paparazzi around my house," she replied sheepishly, "_that_ would've been dangerous. Moreover Alekej is such a dear girl, and it is so useful to have her at the Daily Prophet."

"She isn't Marked."

"I don't need to have all my followers to be marked, Dominic," replied the Dark Lord, before turning back to Rockwood. "What are you waiting for? Keep on reading."

Rookwood nodded, skimming the newspaper before continuing.

**Exclusive interview to Madam Edna Fudge**

"**MY HUSBAND IS A DEATH EATER"**

"**_I thought I have married a honest and respectable man: it was shocking to find out he is a cruel murderer."_**

_-By Alekej von Versen-_

_When we arrive at number 17, Saint John Square, we felt welcomed. Mrs Fudge welcomed us in her house with a forced smile as she tried to hide her red eyes. She wore an anthracite grey silk dress robe, with fine laces on the sleeves and the hems. Like the perfect hostess, she led us into the parlour and offered us her famous tea._

_We don't want to be too much pushy at a moment like this, but it is our e duty to inform our readers of the whole story._

**Q: Mrs. Fudge, have you ever had suspicions towards your husband?**

_She gasps, then she lowered her eyes and shook her head._

A: It is very painful, but never, in our fifty years of marriage did 'Lio's behaviour make me suspect that he was one of them.

**Q: Understandable, trust should the basis of every good relationship… and now, how are you living through this tragic time? Finding out that someone you thought you knew truing out to be someone completely different, doesn't it make you more suspicious? Do you think there are more Death Eaters hiding amongst the people you know?**

A: Ms. von Versen, since the first war there have been Death Eaters who looked so honest and respectable like my… _she closes her eyes, as if to chase her tears away, and with a trembling hand she brings the teacup to her lips_ li-like Mr Fudge.  
But I think that by suspecting and accusing without proof we end up playing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's game. That's why you and I have to trust the people who are reputed as honest and of the utmost integrity.  
And I hope Rufus Scrimgeour is right and that my husband acted in that awful way under the Imperious Curse.

**Q: Do you think someone has safeguarded his own identity by exposing your husband?**

A: That is impossible, because… it was me who exposed him. _She hides her face in her hands and cries._

_And this answer should be enough to stop the gossipmongers from the Quibbler. A faithful wife who exposes her own husband should be an example for everybody, to fight the baseness lurking in many hearts in hard times like these._

**Q: I don't wish to cause anymore distress, but Mrs Fudge… do you hope your heroic decision will inspire others to follow you example and expose other Death Eaters?**

A: Sure, because it doesn't matter how much you love your husband or you value a dear friend. When they are wrong, we have the duty to show them their mistakes and help them to make amends. And if this means exposing them, well, we must make up our minds to do so.

_And with those heart-warming words, it's good to know that people with moral integrity to do what is right, without hiding behind others, still exist._

_We hope you'll forgive us if we have intruded for the short interview, but we don't want out stay our welcome. Thank you for your helpfulness and frankness._

The Dark Lord and other Death Eaters were applauding, while Bellatrix was laughing like mad. "Dear Circe," she said after getting her breath back, "what a great interpretation! You are a wasted actress, Mrs Fudge."

"I just did what would be useful for my Lord," Edna replied, bowing slightly to Voldemort.

The wizard smiled, pleased by the way the woman had managed the situation. Who, in their right minds, would dare accuse Edna Fudge to be a Death Eater after her seemingly heroic gesture? The Dark Lord's smile widened as he thought about even more solid influence at the Ministry of Magic.

.: ° :.

As Ginny feared, Fred and George came to the Burrow only to use Isabella as their guinea pig, but they have found their match. The day after her arrival, they tried to hex Isabella's Ducati, but when they were three feet from the motorbike a pack of rabid dogs appeared out of nowhere to chase them away. That was only the beginning their war.

One afternoon, as they were studying for exams, Isabella suddenly started retching and also got a mysterious nosebleed. As she brought Isabella to the bathroom, Ginny saw Fred and George gloating and giving high fives. As soon as the two girls were alone, Ginny gave her friend two purple toffees and told her what probably had happened. Isabella only smiled in return, a weird smile that promised trouble.

The next day an owl came, delivering pastries, chocolates, and fruits. Isabella offered the Weasleys some fruits -apricots, three different types of peaches, watermelon, plums, prickly pears and white and black grapes. Few hours later, Fred and George were at St. Mungos for an intestinal failure.

"Oops! I had forgotten to tell them that you can't eat prickly pears before eating grapes!" Isabella gasped in mock innocence.

If Isabella was covered with bluish pimples, flakes and feathers, then Fred and George would suddently sweat a clammy and stinky fluid. If Isabella's underwear become suddenly alive and tried to bite the girl, then the twins' feet would dance wildly and stopping only once Fred and George collapsed to the ground. As Ginny had feared, Isabella's presence at the Burrow had created an uproar. Mrs Weasley didn't know what to do and she looked as if she was on the edge of a nervous attack. As if that wasn't enough, Isabella proved to be no match for Fred and George, and at the end she found out the twins' innermost and shameful secrets and was able to use her last resource: blackmail.

Suddenly the war between the Troublemakers and the Wild Beast ended, and the situation fell off. Isabella begun to behave in a weird, eccentric and crazy way and Fred and George seemed satisfied with her whims. Mrs Weasley was happy to see her sons behave in a decent for once, but Ginny felt that Isabella knew something quite shameful about the twins.

.: ° :.

The day of the exam, Ginny and Isabella flooed to Bill's house, where Fleur welcomed them with a delicious French breakfast. At around ten Hagrid came with a coach - the gamekeeper held Ginny in a choking hug and before taking the girls and Bill to the castle.

Arriving at the castle, Ginny and Isabella were led to a classroom, where the other teachers were waiting for them.

"Snape will teach both in Potions and Defended Against the Dark Arts. If Professor Flitwick doesn't find a substitute within the weekend, I fear that the old bat will teach DADA this year," Bill whispered before he joined the other teachers.

Ginny was surprised and sickened. Potions with Snape was already unbearable, but it would be hell if he were to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts as well. The tiny Headmaster greeted the two girls, showing all his joy seeing Ginny again and even McGonagall smiled at her with moist eyes. After Ginny and Isabella had filled out some forms –"Useless papers" grumbled the latter as she signed her application for the seventh year- the exam begun. They gave the two girls a test with five questions for each subject. Frowning, Isabella read through her parchment, then took a large volume from her bag and began to skim through it. At that sight, Snape got up and snatched away the book.

"Hey, are these the manners your mother has taught you!" exclaimed Isabella, trying to get her book back.

"Miss Trao, I would remind you this is an exam!"

"And I would like to point out, you subspecies of Alan Rickman's very bad double, that English isn't my first language!"

"Miss Trao is right, Severus," said Professor Sprout. "Transfer students are allowed to use dictionaries."

"That's true, Pomona," Professor McGonagall added, "but, we have to avoid any kind of cheating during an exam." Then she touched the book with her wand tip, but nothing happened. "A common Muggle dictionary."

Isabella grabbed her book triumphantly and stuck her tongue out at Professor Snape, who looked livid.

Three hours later, the girls handed in their tests and returned to Bill's house to have lunch and rest a bit. There they met Remus, Alexandria and Loveday.

"Congratulations, daddy," said Alex winking, as she held Cyrille. "She's a cute girl indeed!"

Bill smiled proudly, accepting those compliments as if they were meant for him. Ginny went in the kitchen to help Fleur, leaving the others to talk. She wasn't worried to leave Isabella alone, as she was quite capable to look after herself. Moreover, during lunch they found out that Isabella and Loveday went to the same magical school. Ginny had no idea that Sirius' wife (at least she thought they were married, but Remus used to say things were more complicated) was Italian.

In the afternoon Ginny and Isabella had practical testes, but they didn't do too well. First of all, Ginny was forced to borrow Bill's wand since she had lost her own, and so she wasn't able to properly transfigure her cat. Isabella, on the other hand, argued with the teachers about the spells' right pronunciation and she called Snape "Oily Bat" after he gave her a very difficult potion to brew.

They got the exam results a couple of days before the beginning of the term. Both Ginny and Isabella were admitted in the seventh years, even if the latter with the lowest Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts grades.

.: ° :.

Lord Voldemort read the report for the umpteenth time, frowning slightly. "So Isabellina is staying at the Weasleys' place," he whispered.

Rodolphus Lestrange pursed his lips. "I didn't know she and Loveday knew each other…"

"Isabella has no idea your goddaughter is one of us, or she would be in great trouble," growled Bianca. "But Loveday…"

"She isn't a gossip," Bellatrix shouted at her. "She's wise and secretive like her mother… unlike someone's sister!"

"Bellatrix Asphodelia Black Lestrange!" thundered the Dark Lord. "Isabella may be a pain in the back, but she's still my relative."

The Death Eater lowered her head, biting her lower lip. The others glanced at each other in uneasiness, not knowing what to do or say.

"Er… are there directions for Loveday?" ventured Rodolphus after more that a quarter of hour has passed in silence.

Lord Voldemort didn't reply, he was turning over the pages of the Daily Prophet, his eyes still looking livid. Then his eyes fell on a paragraph, seemingly without importance, and he smiled a sadistic and evil smile. "Tell her to keep an eye on the Order's members, she'll be updated before the term's beginning.

"You know, I've just had an idea…"

.: ° :.

The rosy and pale dawn peeped out beyond the treetops, lighting up the small room with a soft light. Warbling of a lark announced the beginning of a new day. Isabella was still asleep, snoring slightly, a sheet entangled around her legs with her lips slightly opened. Molly's sleep was calm, as the potion forbade her both nightmares and cheerful dreams, and at her side Arthur turned coughing.

Only Ginny wasn't sleeping, she hadn't a decent night of sleep since when she had left Santa Eufemia. There weren't nightmares to torment her, only memories of an almost obsessive desire.

Ginny Weasley didn't know why, but she desired to feel hands on her skin and lips as soft as thistles down on hers, and kisses sweet like honey and bitter like hemlock. Every time she closed her eyes, it was as if something both soft and rough rubbed against her, leaving damps and scorching lines on her skin.

Every time Ginny Weasley closed her eyes, she saw her own hands scratching shoulders and back as a strong and flat chest grazed against hers. She saw two eyes, shining like twin stars, filled with burning as they looked at her. She felt a warm and difficult breath grazed her temple and cheek whispering incoherent monosyllables; she felt her legs clamping sensually around a warm and powerful body. Ginny Weasley felt like an empty jar yearning to be filled with water.

Ginny Weasley abhorred herself, as she knew the name of her desire. Ginny was able to stop her own hands, before they go too low down her body.

Snorting, she turned in her bed and looked at the cracks on the ceiling. The alarm clock's ticking was irritating, and when the malefic object rang, she quickly silenced it and with a sigh she sat up on the bed. Isabella was still asleep, so the ringing didn't affect her. The noises from downstairs meant that Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen. Ginny got up, stretching as she went to the bathroom for the morning shower. When she went back to her bedroom, Isabella was still sound asleep.

"Well Isa, will you wake up!" she exclaimed as she shook the girl.

Isabella yawned as she rubbed her eyes, still looking sleepy and sulky. "Do you realize sometimes you're a real pain in the back? Waking me up right at the dream's crucial point, I hope you have a good excuse!"

"Oh, I apologize, Miss Isabella, but I thought you were impatient to go shopping at Diagon Alley." The two girls looked at each other in silence; one with her arms crossed and the other looking a little bit stunned.

"Breakfast's ready!" Mrs Weasley called from the kitchen.

With a yell, Isabella ran out the bedroom and almost ran over Ron.

All of them were sitting at the table with the habitual enormous quantity of food filling the dishes. Isabella ate in a hurry and almost choked herself. After refusing the fourth portion of apple pie, she grabbed Ginny's arm and dragged her into their room, saying: "Five minutes and then we can go!"

Mrs Weasley and Ron looked at the two girls a little bit puzzled and Mr Weasley shook his head smiling and finished his breakfast.

With a loud sneeze, Isabella got out of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace. The pub was crowded and there were a lot of people going to Diagon Alley for school shopping. Isabella looked around and cheered in excitement as they entered Diagon Alley.

Their first stop was Gringotts. Mrs. Weasley and the two girls reached a free goblin, gave him their keys and climbed in the cart. They reached Isabella's vault, only to found out that Bianca had cut off her sister's funds and Isabella was quite angry at her sister, since she was used to have more money than she could spend. Next they reached the Weasley family's vault and Molly looked sadly at the three small piles of coins. Even if Ginny was the last of her children to attend Hogwarts, there was no more than one hundred or one hundred fifty galleons in the family's vault. Also this year she could afford only second-hand robes and books for her daughter –maybe she could just buy just one brand new school robe. Ginny also needed a new wand, and who knows if Mr. Ollivander would give her a good price or not. With a bitter sigh, Mrs. Weasley went to take the coins when she noticed something in a corner - a pile of shining galleons. That amount of money in her family's vault made her suspicious, so Mrs. Weasley asked the goblin where it came from.

"It was a donation for Miss Weasley," he answered, looking quite bored, "Ten thousand galleons."

"And who's…"

"I'm sorry madam, but the donor wishes to remain anonymous."

Molly Weasley looked suspiciously at those galleons as if they were poisonous, then she glanced at her daughter. "Do you know something about that?"

"Mum, do you really think I would accept money from a stranger?" she replied, slightly annoyed, even if she had and idea of _who_ that anonymous donor might be.

"No, that's not the point…" the mother replied sheepishly. "Anyway, it'll be better to talk about it with your father when we get back home."

Once outside the bank, the three women went to Madam Malkin's. Ginny tried on the new robe and the heavy woollen winter cloak, trembling with happiness. Isabella didn't share her friend's enthusiasm, since in her old school everyone was free to wear whatever he or she liked and a robe and dragon hide gloves were imposed only for Potion and Erbology's classes. Afterwards they went to the Apothecary for Potions' supplies and to Flourish and Blotts. Isabella complained as she skimmed through the schoolbooks, but she was decidedly surprised to see the Defence Against the Dark Arts book.

"That kind of Alan Rickman's double is less idiotic than he looks…" she exclaimed, looking at the cover, arching her eyebrows. "At least I won't have problems with this subject. I'll send an owl to Fi' asking for my copy at home, my classmates used to envy pa's autographed copy."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, slightly confused

"Are you blind or what? Bastiano Maria Alfio Trao is the author, and he was my pa' as well!" Isabella grumbled as she tapped the leather cover.

The two girls peeked in the shop's other sections, giggling and looking at the new merchandise. They looked fascinated by an everlasting ink quill and an enchanted drawing kit.

"Oi, Ginny!"

Ginny turned and smiled, recognizing the voice's owner. "Hi Colin, we haven't see each other in a long time."

"Since your birthday party," he answered as he went to hug her. "I heard you took the exam. So, will we have you with us or will you attend the sixth year?"

"You'll have to deal with both of us!" said Isabella, extending her hand. "Isa, nice to meet you."

"I'm Colin, nice to meet you too. You're not English, you have a funny accent."

"Yeah, I arrived here a couple of weeks ago."

"Just to drive mum mad with Fred and George. We are lucky that the twins have left Hogwarts or else we won't last a week before we surrender to You-Know-Who and beg him to put an end to our terrible pain."

Colin and Ginny laughed as Isabella grumbled, pretending to be offended but then she smiled anyways.

"Anyway, have you guys seen the DADA book?" said Colin looking aghast at the book. "I bet the new teacher is going to be a monster or something…"

"He is a monster. My brother told us that if the Headmaster can't find a new DADA teacher, he'll offer the position to Snape."

"What? The Dungeons' Bat will teach DADA! I bet he'll be worse that Umbitch."

"And Gryffindor can say goodbye to her House Cup as well." Ginny sighed, taking a roll of parchment with dry flowers on it. She said goodbye to Colin and her and Isabella went to join her mother.

After they had bought everything for the upcoming term, they went to Ollivander's for Ginny's new wand. The wizard, after he had heard what happened to Ginny's previous wand, searched among the boxes, handing a wand to his customer every now and then. When even the last wand refused the witch, Mr Ollivander tightened his lips thoughtfully. "Your old wand was oak and dragon heartstring, right?"

"Yes," Ginny replied, "and even using my cousin Leah's old one, it made things difficult for me sometimes."

"Strange, pretty strange… well, one of these, " And he pointed the wands on the counter, "would be fine for you, unless… has you magical equilibrium been altered lately?"

Ginny bit her lower lips, glancing to Isabella, who replied for her. "So said Galene, the Healer, the last time she visited Gin."

The wandmaker looked thoughtfully at the shelves, then he went to a nearby room. He emerged a quarter of hour later with another pile of boxes. Ginny tried those as well, and finally the seventh accepter her.

"Twelve inched and three quarters, rowan infused in fae's blood," exclaimed Ollivander. "Wands like this were produced only until three hundreds or more years ago! Take care of it, Ms Weasley, this wand will be shown in a museum when… you won't need it anymore."

Mrs Weasley gave a withering look to the wizard, feeling vexed at that last sentence. She paid for the wand and left the shop with the two girls. She then gave them some money and allowed them to have a walk on their own.

As soon they were by themselves, Isabella dragged Ginny left and right, forgetting Molly's warnings about spending too much money and going to disreputable places, they lingered every now and then before a shop window and entering just to bother the shop assistants. Ginny didn't mind following her, that was until Isabella squashed her nose against the windows like a three-years-old child. It was a shock when her guest slipped away in Knockturn Alley.

Ginny looked for her throughout the shops' windows and dark corners, but the streets were so narrow and those buildings were so tall that even in broad daylight the shadows were everywhere. The street she was on led her to a little square and the sun's reverberation on the stone was almost blinding after the streets' darkness: the square had a strange shape, an almost unidentifiable polygon with a dry fountain in the middle. There was something in that place that altered the perspective –it was hard say what it was- and Ginny felt a sudden dizziness. Magic? Maybe.

Ignoring the passer Byers' spiteful and curious glances, Ginny looked around. It shouldn't be so hard to locate a girl in Muggle clothes at Knockturn Alley! There was commotion in a street on the other side of the square and Ginny caught a glimpse of someone wearing a pastel-coloured sweater in that crowd: she ran in that direction, knowing that there she would find who she was looking for.

Hands on her hip and sporting a cheeky smile, Isabella was there as a young man insulted her before a group of sniggering boys and girls. The brunette yawned loudly, then she took cigarette paper and tobacco from her backpack and made herself a cigarette. The wizard looked angrily at her and insulted her even more roughly.

"Will you shut the Hell up and stop being such a pain in the back?" she said, enveloping him in a light bluish cloud of smoke.

The young wizard coughed; resentment and disgust burning in his icy eyes. "How dare you, stupid Mudblood! I should hex you and-"

"Actually, Isa is a Pureblood." said Ginny, appearing at her friend's side; and upon recognizing the wizard, she added, "Malfoy."

Draco looked at Ginny, blanching as if he has seen a ghost. He then smiled evilly. "Looks who's here, the little Weasley girl! The last time that I have heard, you were with no one less than the Dark Lord himself. Either that, or we believed you were dead."

"Tell me, how does it feels to have sold your own _friends_?"

Ginny snorted and smiled sarcastically -exactly as Tom would have smiled- and she replied with mock innocence. "Hasn't your dear daddy told you? Oh, I'm sorry: I forgot that that Half-blood boss of yours don't share his plans with all of his bootlickers."

"How can a blood traitor like you talk about _him _like that?"

"Come on, Gin, don't hit a man when he is down," Isabella interjected cheekily, "I bet that counting for nothing rankles him!"

Ginny sneered and arched an eyebrow. "Poor, poor Malfoy!" and she leaned in Isabella with boldness, to increase her mockery and also to not be caught up by a sudden dizziness.

Draco looked angrily at her, his face pale with shame and embarrassment. How dare these stupid girls insult him! But more importantly, how did they know about Malfoys' real position inside the Dark Lord's ranks! With a quick gesture he took his wand out and pointed it at the redhead. Isabella aimed her wand to Draco, ready to hex him, but before either of them could cast a spell, Draco, hit by a curse, choked back a yell and fell on the ground.

"Hasn't anyone told you to not aim your wand against a 'elpless girl?" chuckled a masculine voice with a slight French accent from behind them.

Rolling her eyes and with a neat flick of her wand, Loveday Black annulled the hex. "You have an elephant's delicacy in a crystal ware shop, François!"

The boy shrugged his shoulder and smiled cockily at her. "If you say so, _Ma Muse Malade_ii…"

"Stop wishing me bad luck!" she reproached him, punching his shoulder.

Draco was still stunned, but he whispered venomously "Are you rehearsing for when you'll be an old couple? You two look like a pair of eighty-years-old Muggles!"

Loveday snorted, pursing her lips. She couldn't answer back as she wanted to, not in front of Ginny Weasley, and Loveday knew Isabella Trao well enough to not reveal her own secrets when she was around. Smiling evilly and fluttering her eyelashes, she looked at Isabella, leaning on François's arm. "Isa, dear, do you know what aunt Cissy calls her baby boy? It's such a lovely name!" Loveday exclaimed, before turning to Pansy. "Out of curiosity, Pansy. I don't want to be indiscreet, but do you call our Drackey-pooh _Cabbie_ or _My Little Cabbage_ in private?"

"Wait, what did you say?" Isabella asked, wanting to gloat, while Ginny and François were laughing like mad. "I have to write it down! I know a couple of people who'll be pleased to have this information!"

Draco was livid and looked at the four of them as if he wanted to cast an Unforgivable Curse on them, while behind them Crabbe and Goyle were ready to use violence. Pansy was helping her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

"When she hears what you've done," she said, looking aghast as she turned to Loveday, "Madam Narcissa won't ask you over for tea anymore, and she'll make sure other respectable families will do the same. No one will let a filthy blood traitor like you into their house, who has fun with Half-breeds and Muggle lovers!"

"Then thank you," said Loveday, taking advantage of Pansy's words. "Those afternoons are so boring!"

Pansy was now as angry as Draco, and she didn't think twice before drawing her wand. François was quicker that her, however, and with a neat flick he deprived the girl of her wand. "Be zankfull you're a _fille_iii, or you'll regret to 'ave called a Lesmaudit Half-breed and Muggle lover," he said, sounding vexed.

Draco snorted and called his friends. "Let's go, this place reeks of blood traitors' stink," he said, glancing one last time at the quartet.

François and Loveday led Ginny and Isabella back to Diagon Alley, and the red-haired girl looked at the couple as if they were hiding something.

"Tell me, w'at were two sweet and 'elpless _filles_ like youselves doing all alone in Knockturn Alley?" the boy asked after a couple of minutes.

"Well, I'm neither sweet nor helpless," replied Isabella cheekily. "Anyway, I can ask you the same question."

"It's not polite to ask a couple about their… intimacy." Replied Loveday, hinting at something else on purpose.

"Moreover, it isn't nice to ask information about ze places w'ere a couple meet," François added.

Ginny and Isabella looked at each other, embarrassed. After all, everybody knew Knockturn Alley's innkeepers didn't care about stuff like Loveday's minority.

.: ° :.

Mrs. Weasley was angry at Ginny and Isabella when she heard about their adventure in Knockturn Alley, and she made sure that both of them were punished enough for that.

The day of their leaving, Ginny and Isabella were woken up in early morning by two buckets of icy water. The girls then had breakfast and sleepily they got ready to leave for King Cross. The trip was quiet, since Isabella fell asleep as soon as she sat in the car and Ginny just dozed off to wake up every five minutes or so. Once at the station, they reached platform 9 ¾. The platform was crowded and the train puffed smoke and steam as if it was impatient to bring the students to school. Mrs. Weasley gave them their lunches and she said her goodbyes with embraces. Mr. Weasley also embraced his daughter, and then wished his guest a good term, adding that Bill would keep an eye on them.

Ginny and Isabella got on the train. When they had found their compartment, they appeared at the window for a last goodbye. Ginny looked out the window until a turn hid the station and her parents, then she sat while Isabella took the other seat.

"Wake up me when we arrive," Isabella said before lowering her cap on her face.

Ginny decided to sleep as well, so she drew the compartment's curtains closed and slept. They were woken up by the tinkling of the food cart and the other students' noise. Ginny and Isabella bought some cakes and chocolates from the food cart and had their lunch. Around three in the afternoon, Asia, Audrey and Chantal joined Ginny and Isabella and they spent the afternoon eating Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and talking about school and teachers. The transfer student impersonated all her former teachers, making the other girl laugh like mad.

"It's weird to admit it," she said laughing, "but I'll miss them. Especially their blunders! I really hope to have fun at Hogwarts."

"I simply can't believe it, did you really hold your Ancient Runes teacher to everybody's scorn? Did you really write in your school's gazette about his collection of female underwear," asked Chantal, amused. "Ehi, what do you think will happen if we did the same with Snape?"

"He would take two hundred points from us each," replied Asia, rolling her eyes.

Isabella looked at them thoughtfully. "Snape is that greasy bat with a breath that's worse than a sewer, isn't he?"

"Dear Circe, so you've already met him! I advise you to not get on his bad side. Snape is a real bastard, he used to treat Neville very badly!"

"Too late, I told him what I thought about him at the exam."

The three Gryffindor looked amazed at the brunette. "Did you call Snape a bastard!"

"Well, no. I told that he was a subspecies of Alan Rickman's double and I called him a greasy bat. Hey, but he started it. He wanted to take away my English-Italian dictionary!" She then began to tell what happened during the exam; and Isabella added that Professor Snape will probably teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Well, let's hope the Headmaster hired somebody else," said Audrey hopefully.

Before they arrive at Hogsmeade the girls put on their school robes. Then Ginny's housemates said their goodbyes and went to get their trunks. The landscape, which was sunny and full of colours became dark, and the castle's outline stood out against a star-studded sky. The train arrived at the small station and stopped among puffs of white steam. A laughing mass of students flowed on the platform while Hagrid called to the first years as he shook his lantern. Isabella followed her new friends toward the carriages, but the Gamekeeper called to her. "Ms Trao, ye have to go with the first years."

"But... why do I have to go with those brats?"

"I'm sorry, but it is the rule. After all you have to be sorted just like them."

Isabella mumbled something in Italian and kicking a small heap of dust, she joined the first years on the dock. Ginny smiled, imagining her friend's face and what could happen on that boat before joining her friends.

Isabella crossed the lake on a boat with five pairs of frightened and amazed eyes staring at her. Bothered by this unwanted attention, she snapped once or twice, making a boy tall and thin like a broomstick fall into the lake. She felt vexed and she didn't understand why she had to go 'with the brats' and not with the other seven years. But what bothered her more was the way they looked at her like she was an animal in a zoo.

Professor McGonagall greeted them as they arrived at the castle, and she led the new students in a room near the Great Hall and told them to wait there. Snorting, Isabella leaned on a column and began to smoke nonchalantly while the other students waited, impatient and fearful, wondering about the Sorting Ceremony. Isabella grinned as a thought crossed her mind.

"My friend's brother, who's a teacher," she said gloomily, "told me the Sorting is something about a Devil's Snare, Chimaeras, giant spiders, Dementors, a couple of Werewolves and what else? Oh, yes, there is a Basilisk too. It isn't a problem for me, but you, so tender and tasty..."

The first years jumped at those words and looked even more frightened and Isabella hid a smirk and held back laughter. Few minutes later, the Transfiguration Professor came back and gave the usual dry speech about the four Houses, stopping only to glaring at the young Italian witch. She ended by opening the door and leading the new students to the Great Hall. Even if she had already seen it, Isabella was amazed by the shine of the walls, the floating candles and the high, ceiling which revealed the sky. Four long tables had been arranged longitudinally, each under a tapestry with a House's herald. And perpendicular to them was the staff table, before which sat a stool with an old ragged hat. Headmaster Flitwick got up on his pile of books and announced happily.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!

"Despite the sad events of last term that forced me to sit on this chair and despite all the unpleasant things happening outside our school, we have something to be glad for. One of students who we believed was lost forever is back among us. Welcome back, Ginny Weasley!" The Gryffindor table cheered and Ginny was squeezed in a big group hug. "Beyond this pleasant homecoming, we also have two new teachers too. Professor William Weasley, my successor to the Charms professorship and the new Defence of the Dark Arts teacher, who will join us later." This time the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs cheered with the Gryffindors, while Bill got up to smile and wave to the students. "Last but not least, the seventh years will have a new schoolmate, Ms. Trao from the Liceo Magico 'Sibilla Cumana', who will be sorted along with the first years."

There was more applause and when it subsided, the Hat sang its song.

.: ° :.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment and called the first student, she placed the hat on his head and after some minute he was sorted in Ravenclaw. As the Sorting went on, Isabella's turn grew nearer: "Tarvenin, Adel!" was sorted in Slytherin, just like "Thelindt, Agrippa!", then "Torque, Zachary!" "Hufflepuff!"

"Trao, Isabella Maria Addolorata!" called the Transfiguration teacher in a loud voice.

Isabella reached the stool, throwing murderous glances at McGonagall while growling something in Italian, she took the hat from the witch's hands and put it on, sitting on the stool.

Looks what we have here, an Heir of Slytherin's relative! I see that you are ambitious and clever, Miss, and quite proud and despotic. And what a rebel nature, you can't stand rules, can you? I really think Slytherin is the best place… 

Hey, what's this bloody kinship stuff? You can't put me with them! Have you seen their faces? They look like stupid mummies! They look so snobbish... Listen to Isa: I don't care where you put me, I just want to stay where people know how to have fun. Do you understand? 

Oh, you have fairly clear ideas! And the only House that knows how to have fun is... "Gryffindor!"

Isabella threw the hat to the Transfiguration teacher and reached Ginny and her Housemates, who welcomed her with a roaring cheer. Ginny made a bit of room for her and introduced Isabella to other Gryffindors. When the last student was sorted, every kind of food imagined appeared on the table and the feast began. The first years looked amazed by the richness of the tables and the shining golden dishes and goblets, while the older years told to each other what they did during the summer.

Isabella and Ginny told the others how they had met –or better, they weaved a very plausible tale instead of the real story- and what had happened at the Burrow, making everybody around them laugh. They were laughing so loud that they didn't hear the Headmaster announce the new DADA teacher's arrival and missed his introduction. The seventh years Gryffindor didn't care about what was happening at the staff table until two fifth years girls made a spicy remark about the two new teachers. Only then did Asia, Chantal and Audrey looked up and began to gossip.

"It's true! Even the new DADA teacher is not at all bad!"

"But I wonder why Bill-- Professor Weasley told Ginny that tale about Snape being the new DADA teacher - is he jealous?"

"Oh Circe, they are so sexy that I don't know who to choose!"

"What is the matter, Asia? I would chase them both!"

"And this year I only want to take Charm and Defence Against the Dark Arts…"

"Do not drool! Hey but… have you seen the Bat's face? Snape looks so furious!"

"What is his name?"

"Sorry, didn't heard it… Eek! He's looking here!"

"He doesn't look that great," said Collin raising an eyebrow.

Asia snorted. "You're a boy and, unless you're gay, you can't appreciate the male beauty like us!

"I can feel it, I'll be having very pleasing dreams about them…"

"How could you daydream about my brother?" Ginny laughed, "Moreover, he is a teacher now."

"As his sister you should be proud that your friends are interested in your brother!"

"I should remind you that Bill is married to Fleur, and they have the cutest baby girl in the whole world!"

"There is no justice in this world!"

"C'mon girls, we can always be comforted by Professor Hottie!"

"Eek! He is looking at us again!"

Ginny laughed and shook her head while her three roommates continued to act like silly, giggly fools, but out of curiosity she raised her eyes to the staff table…

* * *

i One of Isabella's made up spells. Literally "_Dobermanns, Rotweilers and mastiffs may bite the ill-intentioned persons' buttocks_"

ii My Sick Muse.

iii Girl.


	12. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teache

**.: XII :.**

**The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher**

She didn't need to get close to him in order to be wrapped by a light cologne scented cloud, or to run her fingers through that black silky hair scented with orange blossom to have that smell on her fingers. She didn't need to graze those lips – soft like thistle's down - or touch those bristly but silky cheeks to feel a flame burning inside. And looking at his seraphic and yet terrible smile, and those eerie eyes staring at her from an eerie place teeming with fears and pleasures, she didn't know if she should flee from him or run towards him, and if she should to be afraid or happy. He glanced at her like a smiling crocodile, raising a goblet filled with a red blood wine to toast his victory, as to scorn his enemies or remind to her of her condition. Seeking an explanation or someone to scold, Ginny glanced inquisitorially at Isabella, who seemed more upset than she was.

"But… what in bloody Hell is _he_ doing here!"

"Do you mean that... you know the new teacher!" exclaimed Audrey, Asia and Chantal in unison, sounding surprised and excited.

Isabella snorted. "Sure, he's my cousin. Well, kind of."

"This year we are quite lucky, not only do we have two knockouts as teachers, but one is Ginny's brother and the other is the cousin of... your name is Isabel, right?"

"Call me Isa and let's cut the bull's head 1."

"There are no bulls at Hogwarts, and even if there were I don't think Professor Hagrid would allow that."

"It's just a saying!" Isabella exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

Chantal grinned. "By the way, I just wanted to say that with Bill and your cousin in the teaching staff, the Dungeons' Bat will think twice before being a pain in the ass."

"I'm thinking about classes," sighed Audrey dreamily. "I don't know why, but I feel that Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts are going to be my favourite subjects."

"You mean you'll be drooling on your books the whole time," Colin retorted. "You must be sick to run after older men, who is not only a teacher but also married."

Audrey shrugged her shoulders. "That is applicable to just one of them, but the other… I don't think there's anything wrong. We're just daydreaming, none of us would ever dare to try. At least, we'll wait till next summer before we try going after him."

"Oh... you are so cunning!" Chantal and Asia laughed, winking and slightly elbowing their friend.

Ginny sighed and just shook her head, while Isabella frowned at her dessert, poking it with a fork as if a murderous tentacle would suddenly pop up.

At the other tables, the girls' topic of conversation wasn't different, since they hoped a handsome teacher could even make classes pleasant as well. Loveday was bored by her Housemates' gossips, she was the one with serious worries! For example, she didn't yet understand why the Dark Lord hadn't marked her. But according to her godmother, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Mrs Fudge that was simply due to her task (after all, Madeye Moody was an usual guest at Lupin's house, and it won't do to rouse his suspicions. Another thing the Slytherin girl was unable to understand was why she had to baby-sit Ginny Weasley. What had happened at Knockturn Alley got on her nerves, and if François hadn't been there she would have fled off the handle on Draco and his gang.

"Lovey? Lovey?" her neighbour called her, slightly vexed. "Do you want to answer me?"

Loveday looked at the girl with boredom. "Was it a witty question?"

"I always say witty things," she snorted, running her hand through her hair.

"Do you, July? Then, can you wittily explain how you didn't passed last year's exams?" a seventh year girl teased her, throwing a knowing glance to Loveday.

July, now livid, gaped speechlessly and then she turned up her nose. "May, April, did you hear them? No wonder Mafalda and Lovey are always on their own!" she complained.

Loveday ignored the comments, and she merely thanked Mafalda with a nod. She didn't care if the most popular girls of her House were against her, she knew her value and she was sure she would do something memorable in her life.

.: ° :.

After the feast ended, the students rose from table and returned to their common rooms. The first years admired the portraits, tapestries, frescos on the ceilings, and the armours. The other students talked to each other their summer memories instead.

Once in Gryffindor's common room, the fifth, sixth and seventh years pressed around Ginny to give her a warm welcome back, and after a quick chat the seventh year girls went in their dorm. The first thing that was evident was the appearance of another bed (or better, two beds) that the house elves had arranged near the window.

"Do you mind if I put up some posters?" asked Isabella, looking at her roommates.

Chantal appeared beyond her closet's door and said. "On the contrary! As long as they're not of the Witched Deers."

"Just because you don't like them," Audrey hissed with fake anger, "it doesn't mean that we have to do whatever you want!"

Asia laughed, elegantly sweeping her long platinum hair with a hand behind her shoulder and Chantal snorted. Isabella arched an eyebrow and resumed emptying her trunk, throwing out dozen of rolled posters. Then she started nailing them on the wall, between her closet and bed with a masterly flick of her wand.

With almost maniacal care, Ginny put her new uniforms, tunics, and the heavy cloak in her closet. But even if she managed the impossible by focusing on what she was doing, her thoughts (always) went back to an hour and half before, to when she had seen Tom. Why was he there in his enemies' stronghold? Why did he have that victorious look in his eyes? Why was his smile mocking and enigmatic? She would never have believed or even imagined that Hogwarts could become unsafe. Before today she would have laughed if someone had suggested it! And then, how could she ignore that turmoil, terror and desire that has grasped her heart? But her greatest worries were what would become of her and what Tom wanted to do. How much she regretted the death of dear, good old Dumbledore, whose presence was enough to fend off Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters' attacks!

Ginny thudded on the bed and hugged a pillow, trying desperately to seek reassurance. She wondered about talking with Bill or Professor McGonagall, but she then remembered what had happened during her questioning at the Ministry. Moreover, even if she would be able to reveal everything to somebody, would they believe her? She was sure that Bill would stand by her no matter what, but Tom was a master in the art of manipulation (even she herself had been manipulated by him) and it wouldn't be hard for everybody else to side with him and accuse her of insanity. Ginny was afraid and felt the desperation grow inside her.

"Hey Ginny, what's wrong? Are you feeling all right?"

Chasing away the tears, Ginny nodded and smiled at Isabella, as they watched Chantal and Audrey fight as usual. Wearing a fluttering nightgown which showed off her dark complexion hints at a figure that's a bit heavy on her breasts and sides, Chantal was very agile and only her inborn laziness had prevented her to play for Gryffindor Quiddich team. Audrey, on the other hand, was petite with ruffled short azure-dyed hair and odd coloured eyes. Her one honey and one baby blue eyes flashed as she screamed at the top of her lungs and ran after her friend, who had stolen her diary.

"That'f enough! Ftop all thif noife!" screamed Asia, getting out of the bathroom. Her braces altering her perfect diction and her beautiful gray-blue eyes were hidden by thick glasses as she interposed her tall, skinny and slender figure between the two girls. Soon she was involved in the fight as well.

Isabella stretched out on her bed, lying on her stomach and sucking on a lollipop, as she watched the three girls with amusement. They kept on for a half an hour, until they fell heavily on the floor, exhausted and panting.

.: ° :.

The moon, near its first quarter, peeked curiously into the room. Illuminating the sleeping girls with her scarce and faltering light, the only noises were a slight snore and the whisperings from some dream. A tall, black shape cast his shadow on a bed near the window, leaning against the wooden column. With his hand he drew away the red velvet curtains embroidered with gold. Torn between logic and desire, he watched the girl as she slept on her right side. He stretched a hand towards her, but withdrew it when she turned. Watching the silvery light creating smooth lights and shadows on her face and bare skin, he grazed her lips with his own.

"Good night, little doll."

Ginny awoke with a start, dominated by an uneasy feeling, which was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Confused and frightened, she looked around and searched with her eyes for something or somebody. But her roommates slept quietly and it seemed there was nobody else there. For an instant, it gave her the impression that Tom was there and ready to seize her (she even thought she smell his scent). Ginny sighed in relief when she remembered that boys weren't allowed in the girls' dorms. She told herself it had been a dream, and blaming it on sudden and inexplicable paranoia, Ginny went back to sleep.

.: ° :.

The clear and radiant weather turned out to be the only good thing that day, as the early morning panic ruled in the dormitories at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While she ran toward the showers, Isabella bumped into Asia, making her drop her contact lens on the floor. Chantal wasn't able to find her prefect badge, and she got back it only after she had threatened Audrey with endless detentions with Snape. Ginny was the last to wake up and she gave up her morning shower in favour of breakfast. When they finally were ready, the six girls set out towards the Great Hall. But halfway there, Asia remembered she had left her History of Magic essay on her desk and went back to get it, telling her dormmates to save some breakfast for her.

"Oi, girls!" exclaimed Colin, Richwar and Joseph, as they made room for the girls at the table.

Audrey and Chantal took the best seats, which were the ones where they could see the staff table, while leaving some room for their girlfriend, who had ran up to get her essay.

"Where are the two new teachers?"

"They've come and gone."

"Richy, you are really cruel to give us such news with that face!"

"Merlin's beard, how pathetic you are!" Joseph snorted. "Where's Asia?"

"Comin'. What about the others?"

"Evan is in the Library and Xavier had to meet his boyfriend."

"Good morning everybody! Is there mail for me?"

"'Morning Asia! There's nothing for you but your schedule."

The girl smiled at Colin and sat, grabbing a tray with sausages.

Isabella, even though she was quite hungry, glanced with light disgust at the dishes on the table. "Do you call this a breakfast!" she hissed furiously. "Where is my cappuccino! Give me at least a café au lait, some carrot cake, or at least a slice of jam tart!"

Everybody was struck dumb as Isabella gulped down a glass of milk and grumbled in Italian. Colin, acting as a good prefect, handed the schedules to his Housemates.

"Ouchy ouchy, we start quite well…" said Joseph sarcastically. "Double Potions with Slytherin."

"And as if that wasn't enough, we don't have Charms or Defence today! The year starts bad."

"What!" exclaimed Asia and Audrey, both choking on their tea and pumpkin juice. Chantal showed her schedule and added. "No Professor Hottie or Professor Megacool before tomorrow."

"But in the afternoon we'll have an hour free, and we have Astronomy too."

"That's a meagre consolation, Ginny."

"Ah, my shirt is all stained with tea!" Asia said, cleaning her clothes with a spell.

After breakfast, the seventh year Gryffindors walked toward the Potions classroom, leaving the three girls arguing about the schedule. They went down to the dungeons and reached the classroom, where Evan had preceded them and had taken set for everybody.

"Hi guys, where are the others?" Evan smiled, taking his schoolbag from a chair. "They know Snape likes to come to class before the bell rings."

"Xavier had a date with that Hufflepuff," Colin answered placing his cauldron on the desk. "Our three damsels are still in the Great Hall. Nothing new about the Snakes?"

"The Prissy Trio, pardon, now it's a duo, hasn't arrived."

"Tsk, I bet the Jeager sisters will do their usual prima donna entrance," whispered Evan.

Ginny threw a suspicious glance at the few Slytherins in the second row as she added venomously. "Now that Pug is gone, I bet they'll get even cockier."

"Nobody told you?" asked Joseph with surprise. "Last year one of them tried to take the Bouncing Ferret from Parkinson, she nearly made them to break up."

"You ought to have seen Parkinson's face when she heard about it! She would have used an Unforgivable Curse if Professor Angelini hadn't been there!" Colin grinned.

Ginny placed her chin on her hand and sighed. "Phew, I've missed a lot of things."

"Just think about what I am missing!" Isabella sighed patting her back. "I hope Federica and Silvia will owl me about the new developments of Professor Palmisani and Professor Napoletano's love affair as soon as possible."

Few minutes before the bell, the other Gryffindors entered the classroom, panting for air. Professor Snape, who glanced at them angrily, soon followed them. He exchanged a warlike glance with Isabella, who folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, all the while staring at him with challenge in her eyes. With his usual long and quick footsteps, the teacher reached the desk and, turning toward the students, he began the usual seventh year speech. Just when he had reached his favourite part, the two missing Slytherin arrived. Ginny had to admit that at last the Jeager sisters understood that being fraternal twins didn't authorize them to look exactly the same. One of them (she thought it was April) had changed her haircut and hair colour. Actually, there was a missing member, their cousin July, whom had not passed the Potions exam the previous year. The teacher asked them the reason of their delay only because of formality, and they gave him a very pathetic excuse (after all they had nothing to fear from their own Head). Ending his speech, the teacher collected the summer essays.

"Where is your essay, Miss Trao?" he asked, looking with malicious glee at Isabella. The girl looked at him doubtfully before scratching her chin. "Excuse me, but it seems illogical (and stupid) to ask for summer homework from a transfer student."

"Show more respect for the teachers!" he shouted, spitting on her. "Ten points from Gryffindor for showing no respect to a teacher."

"First, there's no need to scream; second, I've already had a shower; and third, it's obviously unfair to punish me just because I spoke the truth. If you still haven't understand to whom you are speaking to…"

"I know very well to whom I am speaking to, Miss Trao: an insolent and rebellious student! Another twenty points!"

The Slytherin were laughing at her, Isabella stood up but Ginny stopped her before she could make the situation worse and told her friend to keep quiet for the lesson. The brunette snorted and pouted for the whole lesson, surely planning how to get her awful revenge on Professor Severus Snape.

Before the end of the lesson, the seventh year Gryffindors had lost fifteen more points. The following classes passed quickly and without many problems, probably because the teachers were friendlier than the Head of Slytherin House. But lunch was a torture for Ginny. Even though she had chosen a seat hidden from the staff table, she felt Tom's eyes on her and she didn't like that her brother was being so friendly with him.

_Who knows_, she thought, _maybe Bill and the other teachers act this way because they don't know he is Lor..._ She couldn't finish that thought as a sudden cough tightened her throat and a sharp pain in her heart caught her breath, just like at the Ministry.

Hogwarts staff was using lunch to get to know the new Defence Against the Dark Arts' teacher.

"I think it's unfair, this is Professor Weasley's first teaching year as well," Tom said with an artfully embarrassed smile.

McGonagall shook her head and replied. "We all know Bill since he was eleven, he has been one of our brighter students. Moreover, Thomas, we are on first names terms."

"What did you done before come at Hogwarts?" Professor Vector said looking at him as she fluttered her eyelashes.

"I lived in Cape Town until I was nineteen, then I won a scholarship for Salem College of Magic, where I graduated in Dark Arts and Occult Sciences. I worked at South Africa's Ministry of Magic for about a year, but then I had to manage my family's property. In the last four years I've travelled far and wide, then last year I moved to Great Britain, since here my sister could be under the care of the best Mediwizards."

"I suppose she's at St. Mungo's, under the care of Doctor Smith," whispered Professor Ninvel.

Tom shook his head, lying blatantly. "Unfortunately Lydia… she didn't get through the winter." He sighed mournfully, covering his eyes with a hand and mentally calling the people around him a bunch of foolish dupes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound depressing."  
"And… and what about you, Professor Weas... Bill? What did you do before replacing Professor Flitwick?" added Tom, sounding as if he wanted to talk about something else.

"I specialized in Spellbreaking and I worked for Gringotts, first in Egypt and then the last two years here in…"

"What's happening?" exclaimed Professor Gildenlead, the Alchemy teacher, noticing the mess at Gryffindor table. The other teachers turned and at once Snape wanted to take off further points from the House, but Bill stood up whispering, "Ginny!"

He ran to reach the table, followed by Professor McGonagall, and he found his sister collapsed on the floor and coughing blood. Isabella was leaning over Ginny, trying to wipe her mouth with a napkin. Bill checked his sister's pulse, then carried her to the Hospital Wing. Professor McGonagall had some difficulty trying to get her students' attention.

"Perhaps that viper had hexed her and we didn't noticed it…" Xavier whispered, glancing at the Slytherins with hostility, but Colin sighed. "Nonsense, can you tell me how they could've done it? At least the teachers would have noticed something."

"We were eating, Professor," Audrey sobbed, "and suddenly Ginny began to cough. We thought it was nothing, but she continued to cough and it got worse and then… and then…"

"I understand," Professor McGonagall ended with a huge sigh. "Don't worry and finish your lunch, everybody."

Bill and Isabella waited impatiently in the hallway for news of Ginny's condition. The young man walked back and forth before the Hospital Wing's doors, while the girl sat with folded arms, frowning and lost in a thousand thoughts. Around a quarter past two, Professors Sinistra and Vector came with Tom, who tried to say something, but his cousin's murderous glance kept him silent.

"How's your sister?" Professor Sinistra asked Bill worriedly.

"I don't know, Adhara, Poppy is still examining her. The first time she'd been this ill was at the Ministry, and then the Mediwizards didn't… Adhara, Ellis, how could I face my parents if something happens to Ginny? Mum would die!"

The two women looked at him sympathetically, while Tom was thoughtfully silent, then he excused himself and went away. Isabella's eyes followed him, frowning as if she wanted to curse him.

"Isa, is there something wrong?" Bill asked her.

She shook her head and replied that she had to talk with someone before walking away was well.

Isabella didn't attend the afternoon classes, it was like she had disappeared. Tom wasn't bothered much by it. He knew his cousin well enough to know she would reappear suddenly as if nothing had happened, so the wizard simply didn't expect to see her in the Hospital Wing with Galene.

Ignoring Madam Pomfrey's protests, the old Healer sat on Ginny's sick-bed, whispering breathlessly. "For Danu's sake, what happened? I told you to be very careful with your own health!"

Ginny bit her lower lip, and lowered her eyes as she told Galene about the whys and wherefores of her sudden indisposition. Galene glanced at Isabella, who only shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

"Inquire whom is responsible, Isabella Calliope, if you know nothing about it," hissed the Healer cryptically. "As for you, Virginia, I have to make sure there hadn't been further alterations in your magical equilibrium."

"That's enough!" bristled Madam Pomfrey, who had glanced at the other woman with suspicion. "I would like you to notice, ma'am, that the Headmaster have to authorize any external consultation and only after I myself have requested it! I had been kind enough to let you in my hospital!"

Galene looked her over from head to toe and snorted. "A member of the Order of Salus, I see. I ought to have expected it. The way you cured this girl's disease is simply symptomatic. You, ma'am, are unable to go back to the illness's root, because of that that, get out."

Madam Pomfrey was livid as she heard those words and since she had no intention to go away, Galene merely placed a screen around the bed and secured the zone with a privacy ward. When Bill found out what was going on, he went to the Hospital Wing. But once he was there he didn't know what to do. He didn't like that an unknown healer is so close to his sister, yet on the other hand he wanted to know what was wrong with her. He remembered Doctor Moro's diagnosis and what the Ministry's Spellbreaker had said: everything was so absurd, and there had to be an explanation - even if was a bizarre and illogical one.

When Galene broke the spell and pushed away the screen, there was an angry expression on her face.

"Well, ma'am, which are your conclusions?" asked Madam Pomfrey mockingly, folding her arms.

The Healer glanced at her with likewise contempt and once she was sure Bill was Ginny's relative, she answered. "Her magical equilibrium is unstable." Galene began, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's snorts. "And it has a negative effect on both her body and health, as you may know. I've found signs of activity of a peculiar Silence Spell (Conspiracy of Silence, if we want to be pedantic) and…"

"It's impossible!" Bill cut in, sounding bewildered. "They told us the opposite when she was at St Mungos!"

"The one who told you was probably incompetent," replied Galene self-importantly. "Anyway, this knowledge helps us to choose a better way to cure Virginia's imbalance. It would be better to break the spell, but the bad news is that only the one who has cast it in the first place is able to break it."

"Hence, Virginia, I would like you to resume your exercises and no flight." At that last words, the girl began to protest. "I'll owl you a new diet and an elixir. I'm sorry, but I can do no more than this." Galene said apologetically.

"I'll come back within fifteen days," ended the Healer as she went away.

Ginny thanked her with a weak smile and the she smiled at her brother as well. Bill pursed his lips, he wasn't fully convinced of Galene, as he didn't understand half of the things she had said, did he have to trust that woman? And why had his sister let that Healer examine her? He knew Ginny didn't like Mediwizards, not after she had been kept at St Mungo's after the Chamber of Secrets' affair.

.: ° :.

Ginny was meant to spend the afternoon and the night in the Hospital wing. Her housemates paid her a visit and they brought the Transfiguration notes, and Bill came after the lessons to dine with her. The night was quiet for her however, since Galene gave her some herb to help her to sleep.

The next day Ginny didn't leave her bed for the first class, since she had History of Magic and it was better to sleep in a nice bed. As the first lesson ended, the girl took her books and went outside to class: Madam Hooch was a little bit reluctant to let Ginny climb on her broomstick, but she hadn't received any notification from Madam Pomfrey. Charms class was a different story: every five minutes, Bill asked Ginny if she was feeling well or if she needed something. His behaviour embarrassed her, especially since the other girls did nothing but gossip and the Slytherins were not kind with the new Charms teacher. In the end Ginny's most feared moment came: Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Tom. The very excited Asia, Chantal and Audrey sat in the first row, while Isabella and Ginny sat in the third row -the last seats yet taken.

Tom entered the classroom and frowned, noticing that someone was late by some empty chairs. He glanced at Ginny as he reached his desk and said. "I am Professor Meridiæ, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I know in the previous years you haven't had a steady teacher and this could cause some problems for…" Tom paused his speech as the latecomers entered the class. "Name, last name and House."

"May and April Yeager, Professor, Slytherin."

"Well, ten points each because of your delay, another five for your lack of manners, Miss Yeager.

I don't know if you display such attitude to the other teachers, but I warmly advise you to avoid such behaviour in my presence. May this be the first and the last time it happens."

May opened her mouth to protest, as she wasn't used to be treated in this way, but her sister whispered something in her hear, and she gave up.

Tom waited till the silence was back in the classroom, and then continued his speech. "As I was saying before being interrupted by someones' lack of education, since you haven't learned a way of studying, you may have problems with N.E.W.T.s. That's why I'll use today and tomorrow's lessons to test your current knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Excuse me, Professor," asked Colin, raising his hand, "do you mean we're going to have a test tomorrow?"

"Exactly, but it won't influence your marks. I need to know if you have some gaps." He took a parchment and put on his glasses. " When I say your name, stand up.

"Akron, Astolph… Badin, Audrey… Creevy, Colin… De Bourgh, Democle… Flowery, Zinnia… Haßmann, Richwar… Icare, Jordan… Labour, Joseph… Lomond, Magnus… Nortmann, Xavier… Prewet, Mafalda… Queen, Chantal… Regalia, Pandora… Seadogson, Thalass… Trao, Isabella Ma-"

Isabella cleared her throat, glancing at him.

"It's not my fault if your mother named you this," hissed Tom glancing back at her.

"It isn't a good excuse to trumpet it abroad!"

Tom shrugged his shoulders and rearranged his glasses on the bridge of his nose, resumed calling the roll. "Tussilage, Asia… Weasley, Virginia Molly…" He looked at her knowingly. "Yeager, April… Yeager, May… Zaffrey, Evan. "Now, close your books and follow me."

Tom led them to a corner of the grounds that is not so far from the greenhouses. The teacher sat under a huge oak and watched his students face the different tests. Ginny felt uneasy knowing that he glanced at her quite often in that strange way. It was so hard to understand, and she wondered when Tom would show his true intentions.

.: ° :.

Life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft proceeded without problems. The air was still warm and the students spend their free time walking through the grounds or sun bathing. Ginny was restless; despite her friends and brother's attempts to distract her from her thoughts, she could not help but feel uneasy and worried. Tom behaved as the perfect teacher; he talked to her only in class, questioning her about the lesson's topics and always with that formal detachment of a teacher-student relationship. It was like nothing had happened, like they had never met before.

But at times Ginny caught Tom staring at her with that weird look that made her remember what she was to him: a china doll, an object that pleased him. She tried to avoid him, but it was quite hard since Isabella is used to hanging around her cousin. Tom was always with the other teachers and it was funny meeting him and Bill in a hallway (one elegant in his tailoring suits and the other cool with his fang earring and dragon hide boots and his disfigured face, which enhanced his charm.) Other times Ginny caught glimpses as Tom talked with Professor Ellis Vector. She didn't know why, but at their growing intimacy she felt something boiling inside her stomach and a strange emotion began nudging the back of her mind. She never said a word about it, especially in front of Isabella, since she would have told her she was being jealous. Ginny laughed hysterically: her jealous of Tom? Impossible.

But unluckily, quietness and Isabella in the same sentence were an oxymoron, and during a Potions class Isabella blew up her cauldron. Professor Snape was able to give her detention, which was extended to Ginny since he thought she was guilty as well.

The next classes weren't happy ones. The Slytherins mocked Isabella because of her first detention and Ginny was worried about what would happen that night. Before dinner, the two girls got a small piece of parchment with which detentions were officially communicated to the students.

"Oh no!" Isabella exclaimed in disgust. "I've got detention with that kind of Alan Rickman's double!"

"Poor dear! He'll make you polish the third years' cauldrons…"

"Or he will make you crush porcupine brains and salamander eyes for the first years' next lesson. I know because I helped my sister with her Potions essay."

"Or knowing that sadistic bat, he would force you to do today's potion all over again and then make you drink it, no matter if it is right or not," said Chantal, Audrey and Asia gloomily.

Isabella stared at the piece of parchment and exclaimed. "And war it will be! I'll use it to find out how enter his private chambers. Everybody has a shameful secret and I will find out his. Gin, I'll need your help for this mission impossible!"

"Sorry to disappoint you but I have detention with... I can't believe it!" Ginny whispered, as she turned pale. "I've got detention with Professor Meridiæ!"

At those words every girl around her hushed, and it was Natalie McDonald who break the silence. "Why that face? I would pay thousands of galleons to be in your place!"

"A four-hours-long tête-à-tête with Professor Meridiæ is a dream!"

"If all the detentions were like that… I would do everything to get one per day!"

Ginny tighten her lips: why did they behave in that way? What was so fascinating about Tom? Perhaps they were merely ignorant and their admiration (or better, worship) for him would fade away if only they know who he is. She shook her head to remove those thoughts, mentally cursing Tom, Bianca and the spell they cast on her.

Evan called her. "Ginny, if you don't hurry, you'll be late and you'll get another detention."

Ginny glanced at her watch, she left from her Housemates and went toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office. She went through the dark hallways thinking about a very unpleasant feeling in her stomach, as if she knew something was going to happen. Standing before that office door, Ginny called back every crumb of her Gryffindor bravery in her body and she knocked. To her great relief, she wasn't alone with Tom; a Hufflepuff boy (perhaps a fourth or fifth year) sat nervously at the desk.

Tom raised his eyes from the parchment he was marking and stared at her. "You are late, Miss Weasley."

Ginny bit her lower lip, bending her head down to not meet his eyes.

Tom beckoned them to draw near and pointed to some boxes near his bookcase. "These are the books we'll use as additional reference. Since I do not have enough time, you two will arrange them.

"As you are taller, Miss Weasley, you'll place them on the shelves in alphabetical order; while you, Mr. Cauldwell, will split them by topic and then by author."

The Hufflepuff and Ginny looked at each other, sighing in relief - the first for the easy task and the latter to not be alone. They took out their wands, but the teacher told them they had to do it the Muggle way.

The almost mechanical gestures seemed to expand the time, and if she didn't have to check that the Hufflepuff gave her the books in the proper order, the young witch would have fallen asleep.

"Well, I suppose that's enough Mr. Cauldwell, you may go," Tom said, putting the marked essays in a briefcase. The Hufflepuff handed Ginny a last book and he wished them good night. The Gryffindor also said goodbye to the teacher and was getting ready to leave. "I didn't say you were dismissed, Miss Weasley. As you can see, there are still a dozen of books inside that box."

Ginny bit her lower lip and faltered as she climbed back onto the ladder. Tom smiled sardonically, his eyes at same level of her skirt's edge. He grazed the hollow of her knees, feeling her tremble under his fingertips.

"P-professor? What are you doing?" asked Ginny at that touch, as she sought safety in the formality of her words.

Tom handed her another book and replied with the same formality. "Your skirt is short, Miss Weasley. The prescribed length is below the knee."

"W-well… it's just… this is an old one, I didn't think that…"

"What?"

"I would grow so much in a year," she answered after plucking up her courage. To know that his eyes were staring at her in that strange way, and that he was so close to touching her made her nervous and she broke out in a cold sweat.

Tom didn't remove his malicious and hungry eyes from her. He handed her the last book and then kissed the hollow of her knee. Feeling his lips on her own skin, Ginny got scared. She shrieked and lost her balance. She found herself with her head leaning on his shoulder, their faces so close that she felt his breath caress her skin. His arm encircled her breasts - either to support her or to remember her that she belonged to him - and her foot stuck in a rung.

"What, did you really think that I would have let you fall, Virginia?" Tom smiled, tightening his embrace.

Ginny struggled. "Professor, I'd like to remind you that I am one of your students and such behaviour is quite indecent."

"But my dear Virginia, you were my china doll before you were my student... or have you forgotten it?" With these words, Tom freed her foot and pushed her against the desk, the fear he read in the cornflowers of her eyes delighted him and fed the fire he had held back in these past few days.

"Stop it Tom!" she screamed, even more frightened now. "It isn't legal!"

"Legal, Virginia? You're are an adult, according to the British Wizarding Law, and you're willing too…"

Ginny shut her eyes, the first tears streaming down her face as Tom made his way through the cloths that had concealed him the pleasure he had craved for many days. A perverse joy lit his face as he recited, "_In libido es…_"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

1 Literal translation of an Italian saying. It means to settle the matter once and for all


	13. Delle sofferenze proprie e altrui

**.: XIII :.**

_**Delle sofferenze proprie e altrui1**_

* * *

The water, like a violent summer storm, flowed plentifully and hotly on her body. The heat reddened her skin, and her hair clung to her face and back, as her tears were lost amidst the shower water. With her face in her hands, Ginny tried to not think, to not remember. How could she have been so stupid? She should have known that Tom wouldn't have left her in peace, but she had cradled herself in her homecoming's euphoric sweetness and the ephemeral safe feeling of the Burrow. And now she was sure: there was no escape. Despite locking herself in the shower and rubbing her skin until it bled, Ginny still felt the ghost of his touch and his smell on her own body. She felt dirty, as if she had never bathed in her whole life.

She raised her head as the splattering of hot water whipped her cheeks, making them redder. Her hand slipped along her neck, the fingers touching where (she was sure) Tom left the signs of his desire. A groan escaped her lips, and she was not sure if it was due to frustration or pleasure. A shadow, which appeared unexpectedly beyond the shower's misted glass, made her veins throb in fear, much like the same fear of the previous night.

"Ginny, do you want to drown under the fower?"

Ginny sighed in relief, recognizing the voice as Asia's, though her braces muffled some of the words. She thought that it wasn't a bad idea, to drown. "Sorry Asia, I'm… I'm almost done."

"Take your time, I waf only a bit worried. Laft night you didn't look well when you came back."

"Were you awake?"

"Kind of," Asia was silent and Ginny heard the noise of a closed shower. "I heard a noife and I woke up. I faw you put on your pajamas and closing your bed'f curtainf, but you looked… I don't know… What happened?"

Ginny opened her mouth; the temptation to tell to her roommate what had happened was great. "Nothing happened."

The awareness to have lied about something so important gripped her stomach, like a sudden sense of guilt of her copartnership blandished by the mathematical certainty that nobody would have given credit to her words. With an extremely slow gesture, she closed the tap and wrapped herself in a terry bathrobe, which was warmed by the heater. She stood before a mirror and looked down on her own feet before then she tightened fists and pursed hers lips and looked at her reflection. A reddish bruise stood out on her neck, right on the jugular, and it was accompanied by another of a similar shape on her breast, slightly lengthened.

"I see someone had fun last night," said the mirror with malice.

Ginny's eyes widened as she threw a nervous glance to the occupied shower. The water was flowing and Asia was singing, so she probably hadn't heard. Ginny tightened the bathrobe around her, raising the collar to cover the bruise, as she drew near the sink. She began to brush her damp hair and with a simple spell dried them. She paid attention to not frizz them, and she wondered how she would hide those signs. The answer was there: Asia's makeup case towered on the dressing table with its abundance of cosmetic. Ginny opened it hesitantly and looked for foundation and applied some on her neck to hide the bruise. When she had finished, she examined her reflection once again; it was like being back in time, her face had the same scared expression from when she was eleven. She shook her head and went in the dorm, where she dressed to face an other day of classes, and another day with him.

"Hurry up! I have to go to the library before classes and I don't want to be alone," said Ginny, urging her roommates.

Chantal, with her hands on her hips and a severe frown, stared at her and hissed. "Ginny, don't be a baby: you're a seventh year girl, not a first year brat!"

Ginny pursed her lips and took her backpack, barely noticing Isabella's inquiring look. Plucking up her courage, she went down to the Common Room, hoping to find someone to go to the Great Hall with. Perhaps the gods decided to be generous with her that day, as to apologize for what had happened the previous night, because Ginny glimpsed Colin getting out and, calling him, they walked down together.

* * *

The lessons passed in an apathetic whirl of sounds and colours, and more than once Ginny was reproached for her lack of attention and lost points for her House. She tried to concentrate on the books and on what the teachers said, but inevitably her thoughts went back to the previous night and to Tom. The awareness of his possession was like a vice that tightened around her insides; like a sting that never stopped to torture her. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. She tried not to cry, to just bottle the tears away until they melt in her yet saturated blood. As if that wasn't enough, Chantal, Audrey and Asia didn't give her a moment's rest, bombarding her with questions about her detention with Professor Meridiæ.

"If you are so eager to know, go ask him to give you one instead!" Ginny yelled as they entered the Defence Against Dark Arts' classroom.

The three girls glanced at each other and snorted before they sat at the desks. Isabella glanced worriedly at her friend as she pursed her lips. She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind. She knew that whatever she would've said would feel like she was twisting a knife in Ginny's wound.

The teacher entered the classroom, a sardonic smile wrinkled his lips when he laid eyes on Ginny. With a flick of wand, the lesson's topic appeared on the blackboard and Tom began his lecture. With an ink-dripping quill between her fingers, Ginny looked at the parchment where she should have written notes. How could Tom behave as if the previous night didn't happened? How could him come in here and act like a perfect teacher? And the way he looked and smiled at her; so arrogant and possessive!

A rap on her desk made her start and she found her face reflected by a pair of eyes, coloured like yellowing green leaves.

"Miss Weasley, would you be so kind as to explain the difference between _Veritas_ and _Veritium_ to your classmates?" Tom said as he looked at her. With his hand atop her book, his voice sounded soft and velvety, like the pillow used in the story to smother the prince in the Tower.

Ginny looked back at him, and she could hear her heart beating in her ears. "The difference between _Veritas_ and _Veritium_ is… is…"

"I suppose you weren't following the lesson, were you, Ms. Weasley? Five points from Gryffindor.  
Yes, Miss Flowery?"

The Slytherin glanced triumphantly at Ginny, then cleared her throat and recited. "The difference between the two truth spells lie in their reaction to the lie and in their uses. The _Veritium Charm_ provokes the appearance of bluish spots on the skin, that's why the Ministry approves it and parents hugely use it. The _Veritas Hex_, instead, is considered a dark spell since it provokes atrocious pains to the liar and its use is limited to Aurors who lack Veritaserum, and only in exceptional cases."

"Perfect, five points to Slytherin.  
What are you doing, Miss Weasley? Why are you not taking notes?"

Ginny looked at him, stunned for a couple of seconds and then, fearing a detention, she dipped the quill in the inkpot and scribble what was written on the blackboard. Frowning, Tom looked at her silently, a rapacious and hungry expression in his eyes. He rearranged his glasses and closed his eyes, focusing to ignore the desire that burned in him (how he desired to take her there, on that desk stuffed with textbooks, quills and roll of parchments!) He resumed the lecture, though he didn't miss Isabella's rare severe and serious expression and because it was rare, it made it even more worrying.

* * *

Ginny's nights were mostly sleepless, and that little sleep didn't restore her. The relief of a day's ending was soon replaced by the fear of the following one, a day in which, with any excuse, Tom could claim her. He did nothing but remind her that she was his doll, a toy for his perverse fantasies: not directly, but instead with subtle puns and vague allusions, and with looks and smiles.

And then, how to ignore that desire, that tension that brought her to him like a moth attracted to a flame? Spread-eagled on the mattress, Ginny looked at the bed's crimson and gold quilted canopy and curtains. Snorting, she turned and looked out of the window. It was a moonless and starless night, low and lightning, which followed the grumbling of thunder, illuminated purplish clouds. However, there was no trace of rain.

She noticed something moving in the shadows. With wide eyes and her forehead shining with cold sweat, Ginny swallowed and whispered. "Asia?" Everybody knew that the girl was a sleepwalker. The reply was a snap; a sound that Isabella had taught her meant _no_. "Isa, is that you?"

"You're close."

For a brief instant a lightning cast a ghostly light on Tom's sneering face, giving him the look of a seductive demon. Ginny cried, sure to awake her roommates, and she recoiled back, clinging to the sheets. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the headboard, blocking her with his own body.

"Did you really think I was so imprudent, Virginia? You should know that screaming is useless, but if you want to arouse me…"

"How… how did you get here!"

Tom laughed a light and evil laughter, he then stooped down and whispered, biting her earlobe. "We teachers have our own passwords. Besides, I have learned in my schooldays that there are thousand of ways to bypass the girls' dorms' staircase, Miss Weasley."

"You, son of…"

He slapped her hard on her mouth. "How many times did I tell you to never ever besmirch my mother's memory!" Then he pressed his mouth against hers in a rapacious and invading kiss and she found herself kissing him back. A shiver ran down her back and she moaned with pleasure, even as her stomach twisted in disgust (disgust for herself) as their tongues grazed and entwined like serpents. Tom looked at her, satisfied by her reaction, and he whispered.

"I was tired of waiting for you. I didn't think you could be such an… upright student, Virginia, and I have a wild desire to play. So, my pretty china doll, let's play."

* * *

With the passing of the days, Ginny became more silent and reserved: she spoke only when needed and she clung to her friends with desperation. Isabella knew quite well what was happening to her friend, but all her attempts to talk to her were useless: it was as if Ginny was blaming her too. Ginny hoped that the beginning of the Quidditch season would give her the peace she craved (nothing was better than a hard training to push away nasty thoughts). Unfortunately, Madam Hooch forbade her to go back to the team, not after she had been informed about Ginny's health and had received a request of Ginny's exemption. She was very sorry about that, but as she said to Ginny, health was more important than Quidditch.

Ginny felt trapped, and she needed to talk with someone, any one. But she knew that she couldn't, and she wouldn't have been able to utter a word without paying the consequences. The thought of being declared mad and locked up in St. Mungo's became more and more tempting in her eyes; at least Tom wouldn't be able to torture her there. But with the Secrecy spell, would she have lived long enough to tell Bill or Professor McGonagall, or even Snape, about Tom?

Tom provoked her during classes and took her reactions for disrespect and insolence, which were punished with nighttime detentions. He did everything to not arouse suspicion, and he behaved so that his sadistic desire was seen as apprehension for a student with high potential. Despite his worried expression, he was laughing on the inside when he spoke to the other teachers about Ginny Weasley. He did nothing besides telling Bill that, perhaps the psychological damages his sister had suffered were more serious than they seemed.

Nevertheless… nevertheless there were some mornings when Tom looked in the mirror, and wondered if he should follow Isabella's advice and give Ginny some rest. Like a tide, the summer memories came back and his thoughts wandered through fantasies in which everything was wonderful and natural like those days at Capri, like in the afternoon when he had brought her back home.

* * *

Bill was worried; what Tom told him about Ginny sowed doubts in his mind. He wanted to help his sister, but he didn't know how.

"In addition, full moon's in three days…" he thought aloud sadly as he left Hogwarts' boundaries.

Bill wasn't a werewolf - Doctor Smith had said that quite clearly - but Fenwir's bites had a mild, yet unknown evil effect and the young man felt better knowing that his wife and his daughter were somewhere safe in those days of the month.

Bill smiled at the sight of his cottage. He smelled guests, his mother was with Fleur. Forgetting his worries, Bill quickened his pace. He came into the house, happily greeting the two women.

"Mum, I didn't expect you!" Bill exclaimed, embracing Mrs. Weasley.

"I just came to help Fleur: it's not easy to Apparate or Floo with a baby if you are all by yourself," she replied, smiling broadly. "Anyway, where's Cyrille?"

"S'e's still sleeping," replied Fleur, then she looked at the grandfather clock. "S'e s'ould be awake, zough, it's feeding time." She went away to get Cyrille.

Mrs. Weasley asked Bill if Ginny was actually well. Her daughter's letters gave her an eerie feeling, as if Ginny was in trouble but didn't dare to ask for help. Bill replied he felt the same and that he was doing everything to help his sister to get through these hard times.

Fleur's cry was both sudden and heart-rending.

They found her in the nursery, leaning against the crib as she whispered broken words in her mother tongue. She gently shook her daughter, and Bill felt as if his heart was being ripped apart by a hook. A lump in his throat stopped his breath, and his eyes were blank. Only after Mrs. Weasley had taken Fleur away, and the urge to deny the truth became too strong, did Bill dared to get closer to the crib. Cyrille was there; with her tiny fists and her eyes closed, as if she was sound asleep.

* * *

Listening to the Mediwizard from St. Mungo's talk about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, Bill felt guilty. He thought that his own unusual condition was the reason behind Cyrille's death. Madam Pomfrey tried to reassure him that semi-lycanthropy had nothing to do with it. Fleur was in a state of muted despair: Cyrille had been her hope; a reason to be strong and go on despite Bill's condition and the war. Mrs. Weasley had wiped her daughter-in-law's tears away and had taken care of the preparation. She knew what it meant to lose a child, and in those days her thoughts went often to the son who came after Ginny and who was born too early. Ginny, according to School Rules, was released from classes for five days. She went to stay with her mother at her brother's place to help and grieve for her goddaughter.

Father Angelo Foresta, Exorcism teacher and Hogwarts's father confessor, attended to the funeral and he talked about the cruelty of death.

"Death isn't cruel," Isabella growled after the funeral, "She does her duty and only comes at the right time."

Ginny looked at her angrily. "It's you who's the cruel one! How can you say that? Cyrille was not even two-months-old!"

"_Beate voi che siete morte. E beata voi, Vergine Santa, che mi avete tolto la mia creatura per non farla soffrire come me2._"

Following the funeral, Professor Flitwick taught Charms again, to let Bill mourn his loss. He did urged his successor to not get down however, and that all the teachers would try to help. All the teachers except Tom: because even though he feared Death, for him it was an everyday thing and he reacted to the news with fake sadness and real coldness. Professor Meridiæ may have showed respect for the Weasleys' mourning, but Lord Voldemort and his minions did not. The same night of the wake, the Dark Mark appeared above Mulberry-Saint-Cadfael.

* * *

With October, autumn had definitely taken summer's place. The days became shorter; the air grew colder and the rain more frequent. As the winds carried small whirls of dead leaves over the still green meadows and stony pavements, the Forbidden Forest showed its most beautiful colours; like a palette filled with reds and yellows and greens.

Ginny was not even allowed the pleasures of flight and it worsened her already low spirits from Cyrille's death. Those were hard times, but they all had to move on. The girl sighed again, watching enviously as her classmates circled above in the autumn sky.

"What's wrong, Weasley?"

Arching an eyebrow, Ginny looked at the boy circling slightly above her: Philip Phelps, Keeper for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, was a good-looking boy with blue dark eyes, auburn hair and a tan complexion of one who loves the outdoors.

"How would you feel if they forbid you to play Quidditch forever?"

"I've heard about that; it's a shame because you're pretty good," said Philip smiling, then he shook his head and corrected himself. "No, it isn't a shame: without you we have more of a chance to win and I get to keep all of my teeth."

Ginny should have felt vexed, but Philip's laughter of himself was anything but offensive. She remembered when, in her first match as Chaser, she had broken the Slytherin Keeper's nose. The boy stopped laughing and stared at her without say anything, his smile a bit nervous. Another whistle and Madam Hooch had flown to three boys, stopping to scold them.

"Are you free the next Hogsmeade weekend? Because… I would like you to come with me." He looked at her, embarrassed, and his smile more nervous.

Ginny bit her lower lip, surprised and flattered. "Actually I have to meet someone…" It was only then she noticed that they were below the Defence Against the Dark Arts' classroom, and Tom was at the window talking to Madam Hooch. He lowered his eyes to the couple, as he pursed his lips slightly. Ginny looked back at him, then she smiled at Philip as she fluttered her lashes. "But I should be free after three o'clock."

The boy smiled happily, before a third whistle and the bell's ring announced the end of the second class.

Audrey didn't miss the brief conversation between Ginny and the Ravenclaw, and she told her two friends, Chantal and Audrey, about it at once. Thirsting for gossip, the three girls bombarded Ginny with questions, expressing far-fetched hypothesis for the rest of the morning. Ginny wanted them to stop with the nonsense, even more so because they were chatting during Defence class - and knowing the teacher - Ginny was sure Tom didn't miss a word of their gossiping.

* * *

The teachers had never been sparing with homework, and as soon as the classes ended, the students flowed their Common Rooms and the Library. To avoid the confusion in the Common Room, Ginny chose a quiet corner in the Muggle Literature section of the library instead. She brought a lamp closer, and with her quill between her fingers, she glanced outside and let out a sigh that was filled with melancholy. The weather was stormy and lead -coloured clouds had poured out rain since early afternoon. The weather made her think about her childhood: the games in the mud with Ron, the races under the rain while laughing like mad, and the long hours spent before the fireplace.

Ginny took a photo from her wallet; it was a photo of the whole family at Hogwarts for Charlie's graduation. She saw herself smiling with her red cheeks, and the naïve and innocent look of who still believes in fairy tales. She was perched on her father's shoulders, wearing a dress made from her mother's old skirt and holding the doll Bill, Charlie and Percy had given her for her birthday (it was her only brand new toy). Ginny's heart sank, knowing that two years after the photo was taken she would have lost that carefree look and her innocence. She put the photo back in her wallet and took out a parchment packed with numbers and formulas. She spent the evening in the company of equations, pruning techniques and the fascinating uses of asphodel extract. She didn't go to the Great Hall for dinner, but instead had a House Elf brought her some sandwiches, which got her withering looks and threatening words from Madam Pince.

She had written only three lines of her essay about Grindelwald's rise and fall, when she heard a loud cough behind her: Ginny turned and stared at Madam Pince, who, with folded arms and a tapping foot, was staring back at her. The girl glanced at her watch and noticing it was past the Library's opening times, she packed her belongings and left, whispering an apology.

The hallways were poorly illuminated by the torches' dancing flames, giving them a rather sinister look. Ginny got scared when something appeared behind a corner, but she sighed in relief as she saw it was just an armour illuminated by a lightning. She reached the staircases and waited for the one that would take her to the Fat Lady's hallway and once she reached it, she went to Gryffindor Tower's entry. She was about to turn a corner when something grabbed her arm, pushed her in a deserted hallway and shoved her roughly against a wall. Even without see the face, she knew who was holding her shoulders; she would have recognized that touch and that smell among thousand.

"What were you doing?" hissed a voice in the dark. "What did you say to that brat?"

"I… I don't know what you're talking about, Tom."

"You know quite well, or did you really think I'm a fool? Did you think you could lie to me? I saw you flirting with that Ravenclaw."

"It's none of your business, Tom!"

"No? Well, you know that I allow no one to touch what belongs to me, and you are no exception! Mind to not forget it again." Tom enforced his meaning by kissing her violently, as his hands held her shoulder so tightly it bruised her skin.

Despite his brutality, Ginny felt that medley of conflicting feelings in her insides. A part of her screamed with horror, fear and disgust. It was urging her to do something, to escape from that vice that drove her mad; but another part of her groaned with pleasure, asking for (claiming) more and craving that feeling of completeness, ecstasy, and carelessness that only came from being with him. Suppressing a sob, Ginny felt Tom's hands moving on her body, and she felt that he was ready to penetrate her. She didn't know why, but in her mind appeared a miniature of a book she read years before for a History's essay. It was a picture of knights beating a ram against the door of a castle defended by flowers-throwing dames, much like how Ginny is trying to defend herself right now. Tom stopped kissing her, his head on her shoulder and a hand pressed on her mouth; Ginny closed her eyes to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

A wicked spitting cut off Tom and he stared into two lamp-like eyes. "Damn cat!" he hissed angrily.

"Serves you right," said Ginny, knowing that Mrs Norris was running to her master. For the first time the girl felt thankful to Mr Filch and his familiar; Tom was going to be exposed and the war would be over.

They heard the approach of knowing and heavy footsteps, accompanied by likewise knowing mews. "Where, my dear?"

Before she could yell for help, something hit Ginny in the face. After a bout of dizziness, she realized that Tom was gone. She curled into a ball, and with her head on her knees, she burst into tears.

"Look here… did your boyfriend leave you in trouble?" said Mr Filch bending down as Mrs Norris purred, staring at the girl.

Ginny raised her head, her red eyes staring pleadingly at the caretaker; the lamp threw a ghostly light on her swollen face. "Did…. did you seen him? Did you see him, Mr Filch!"

The caretaker's smile faltered; he helped her to stand and brought her to the Hospital wing. He then lowered his gaze on his cat and said: "Find him, Mrs Norris! He can't be far!"

* * *

Neither Professor McGonagall's nor Madam Pomfrey's reassurances were able to shake Ginny from her silence. She spent long hours staring at the cracks on the ceiling or the towers' blurred shapes. The rumour of what had happened to her had spread throughout the castle. The Slytherins, showing their usual lack of tact and pity, said nothing but that the boy must have been desperate. They even had the sadistic solicitude to say it aloud. Melinda was one of the few people who were allowed to visit her: she gave Ginny some books and a box of homemade biscuits from her brother. Also her Housemates came, using their visit to update Ginny about the school's rumours.

"By the way, did you hear the latest about Professor Meridiæ?"

At that words Ginny started: she saw Isabella choke on a piece of Chocolate Frog, and Asia, Chantal and Audrey looking nosily at Natalie.

"Well, what are you waiting for!" said Audrey with a bit of impatience.

Natalie leaned forward and whispered, "Professor Meridiæ is dating Professor Vector. I've heard it from Eleanor Branstone, who heard it from her Ravenclaw cousin, who heard it from a seventh year Housemate, who heard it from Lady Grey, who heard it from some house elves, who heard it from I-Don't-Remember-Who's portrait, who saw Professor Meridiæ getting out Professor Vector's chambers a couple of nights ago!"

"That's not fair!"

"Do you think he's serious about it? I think it's weird that someone like him would waste time with someone like her."

"Right! After all Professor Meridiæ is so handsome that even Professor McGonagall would fall in love with him."

"Ew, that's disgusting! It is…"

Ginny didn't want to hear anymore, so she sank her head into the pillows, she looked without really see the landscape beyond the window. In her mind's eye images of Tom and Professor Vector cling in an embrace, thin sheets gripping with perspiration to cover their nakedness took shape. She wondered if Tom felt the same emotions, the same pleasure, the same feeling of completeness that _she_ gave him; or if Professor Vector was able to bring him to that state of bliss like she did.

She realized she was possessive of his touch and the mere idea that another (a rival, hissed a voice in her mind) received those attentions made her livid with rage. She froze at those thoughts and bit her lips, stung by a feeling between shame and guilt: what she was thinking about? After all it was Tom, who was violent towards her only a few days ago (a shiver ran on her back when she realized that, after all, she didn't mind the roughness.) This was all about the man who held her captive and convinced the world of her death; and it was about Lord Voldemort, a wizard who doesn't know pity or mercy, who killed anyone who was in his way; someone who isn't human, but a monster!

No, in a way he was human, a voice replied as the memories came back. Memories of a night in which his eyes shone like twin stars, just like the stars of Orion's belt. That night was of an intimate memory, filled with pain and sadness yet sweet nonetheless; a night made of silent, salty tears, shed after years that fell on her breast. No, screamed another voice, they weren't the same person. That man doesn't exist; he was only an illusion. Yes, retorted the first voice, he exists; that child exists. He was curled up in a ball and was wrapped up by the darkness of the Dark Lord's mind. No and no, the second voice replied with strength, he was only an illusion; only an insane mind could conceive such hypothesis!

And Ginny laughed at that revelation; a rude, distorted, and insane laughter that wasn't her own.

* * *

"Are you leaving?"

Tom pursed his lips and glanced at the cheval glass. With a crumpled sheet covering her body, Ellis Vector stared at him. She was a beautiful woman, neither more nor less than average, with turquoise eyes and long, smooth golden hair. She was slim and slender, her curves almost nonexistent (hard and not so desirable, according to his tastes) and a discreet loving ability: bed-meat, the wizard thought. He turned and replied sheepishly. "Yes Ellis, but you don't know how much I wish to stay."

"Then stay," she whispered, lacing her arms around his chest.

Tom freed himself from the embrace and, grabbing her chin between two fingers, he stared into her eyes. "Ms. Ellis Vector, do you know you have the power to make forget important things?"

"Really?" she laughed languidly. "What would be more important than making love to me?"

"Let me think… is a three feet high pile of essays to grade a satisfactory answer?"

She laughed, falling on the bed and pulling him on top of her. "Do you know you have a weird sense of humour?"

"Do I, Miss Vector?" gasped Tom in fake surprise, and then he added more seriously, "No, really Ellis, we both are behind with our jobs."

The woman pouted as she sat against the headboard. "So there is nothing I can do to make you stay? Will you at least kiss me good night?"

Tom smiled and grazed her cheek with his fingers: he was bending over when he noticed something. "Wasn't Astronomy class postponed?"

She looked outside beyond the wall of rain, and saw a weak light dance atop the Astronomy Tower. She shrugged her shoulders and replied with a bored voice, "It is the usual couple: Adhara always complain about the students using her classroom as a motel."

But Tom wasn't listening to her. His eyes were on the tower, as a strange feeling gripped his insides, like an insane wish. In his ears he heard the roaring rain, and he felt as if he was barefoot on the wet stone. Someone appeared on the balcony, as the person's wand glowed blue. In the same instant that the person jumped, Tom took his wand, opened the window, and shouted the first spell that came in mind, stopping the person's fall.

Without giving any explanation, he took his cloak and ran. He ran through the hallways and the staircases; passed the inner courtyard and the portico and through the garden, on paths of wet gravel, to the base of the Astronomy Tower.

Floating midair at around ten feet above the ground was Ginny. Spread-eagled and wearing an empty expression in her eyes, her lips were curved in a smile that wasn't her own, and her nightgown so wet it was transparent. A strange terror gripped his heart, an arcane and mysterious fear. Desperately biting his lips, Tom let her down gently, like a leaf falling from a branch. He spread his arms to take her, and he held her as if his life depended on it - like a castaway would hold onto a piece of wreckage. Feeling like a weight was lifted from his chest, his knees became weak and he collapsed in the soaked grass and mud. His embrace became tighter, as their bodies trembled from either the cold or the emotions.

"Don't try it again, Virginia…"

* * *

1 About one's own and others' grieves

2 Giovanni Verga's quote from the short novel _Nedda_. "Be blessed you who are dead, and be blessed you, Holy Virgin, who took my child to not let her suffer like me."


	14. Cat's couriosity part 1

**Note**: chapter finally edited, a cheer to my beta MoreEverything who did her job as greatly as usual and despite real life :D

And thanks you all reviewers for you one hundred and one reviews: they mean to me more than what it seems and are also a useful tool to improve the story!

Rose

* * *

The rain wrapped them like a damp silvery blanket, and the roar of the wind isolated them from every noise and the rest of the world. For him, there was nothing else but the trembling body in his arms, as a fear pulsed in his veins and heart; feeling relief at not losing her. Relief? Not in the least… it was more like the joy of a child who watch as his mother mends his favourite toy, he said to himself. Tom got out the cloak and wrapped Ginny with it. Taking her in his arms, he went toward the castle's entrance. Thousands of thoughts whirled through his mind, mixed with both doubts and remorse. A voice into his mind, oddly like Isabella's, chided him that he shouldn't have let his jealousy take control; that he shouldn't have used his position as a teacher to satisfy his desire, and the fact he had even applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position wasn't a good idea. And those unspoken accusation made him doubt: what if he actually inherited the impulsiveness of the man that biology pointed to as his father? He bit his lips, mentally repeating that he wasn't that man, like a mantra in his head. 

A rectangle of light appeared in front of them, like an unexpected guide in the darkness of the fog. Under the entrance, and with the edge of a cloak stretched upon her head, Ellis Vector looked at him nervously.

"What's up! Why did you cast that hex and ran away like that, without saying a word?"

Tom ignored her, swearing as the cloak ,soaked with rain, didn't give neither heat nor protection to Ginny as he carried her towards his chambers.

"Thomas!" Ellis exclaimed, moving in front of him with her hands on her hips.

He stared at her as if she was a particularly incapable and disappointing Death Eater, and hissed, "What are you waiting for? A written request in legal document? Go call Poppy!"

She looked at him, speechless, and only then she recognized Ginny Weasley as the bundle that Tom was clunging to desperately. Without another word, she let him go as she ran to the Hospital wing.

* * *

Tom kicked open the door of his chambers and with a hiss, he lit a warm and crackling fire. He laid Ginny on the easy chair, and contemplated whether to take off her soaking wet nightgown or not. He shook his head no and accioed a clean bathrobe for himself, then sat on the bed. Disheartened and fighting his pangs of guilt, he counted the ticking of the grandfather clock to try to focus on something else. He heard her cough and, with a jump, he reached her. He took her hands and stared in her eyes, but his heart sank when that insane blankness still fluttered in her gaze.

Tom sighed discouragedly. "What do you want me to do, Virginia? What do I do to not let you go away?" he whispered, grazing her knuckles with his lips in a gentle gesture meant to both comfort himself and Ginny. When he didn't get an answer he rose to his full height, infuriated by her unresponsiveness. "What's the matter with you!"

Poppy gasped, and Ellis put a hand to her mouth, as both were shocked to see him look that furious; and Bill merely gave the man with a puzzled look.

"Thomas! Is that any way to talk to someone? If you use those evil eyes, you'll scare more than that poor girl," hissed a severe, yet sweet and velvety feminine voice, that sounded like a thousand silvery bells.

The mediwitch and the two teachers looked around, seeking for the owner of the voice. They found it in a young woman, whose portrait hung above the mantelpiece. With her short, black hair that fell in tidy curls, chiselled feature like that of a Renaissance Madonna and fleshy, cerise lips, she had an eerie beauty and was gorgeous in the shine of a woman in her seventeen or eighteen springs. Also, her resemblance to Tom was striking. The woman of the portrait smiled benevolently and, addressing the stunned teachers and mediwitch, added with a suave and melodious voice. "Forgive him, but he seems to have inherited his father's impulsiveness.  
"And you, Thomas, take a deep breath and calm down."

Tom bit his lower lip and lowered his eyes, which were red with anger and embarrassment. "I beg you pardon, mother."

"Oh, do not worry; take care of that poor girl, instead."

Bill didn't need that exhortation and rushed to his sister and ask her the whys and the wherefores but like Tom, he didn't get any answers from her. Ginny stared at a tongue of fire, following the dance and the crackle, as her face remained emotionless. With a resigned sigh, Bill let Madam Pomfrey do her check up. She took her wand, and after tracing abstruse symbols, she created a string of light which wrapped around the girl. After some time, some luminous signs appeared on Ginny's skin; signs that only a skilled wizard or witch could decipher.

"This is not something that a nice bed and a good rest could not resolve, there are a couple of scratches and… the traces of a hex!"

Bill started at those words; Tom and Ellis exchanged a glance, then the wizard whispered. "I'm sorry, but when I saw her jump I… the Levicorpus was the first spell that came to mind. I hope to have not added damage to damage."

"It doesn't seem like it…" Poppy whispered, still shocked. "But it could have been. I have to inform the Teaching Board about this."

"Why? Isn't our job to take care of our students as well? That's what Thomas has done, even if not in a very orthodox way."

"Will you shut up? I don't care how she was rescued. I… I just want her to be fine." Bill whispered, looking down at his sister.

Ellis bit her lower lip and Tom sat on the bed again, engrossed in dark thoughts that only he was privy to. After another quick check, Poppy suggested they bring Ginny back to the Hospital wing, and Bill went with them. Once they were alone, Ellis sat close to Tom. She leant her forehead on his shoulder, and with his hand between hers, she whispered words of comfort and encouragement. She even propositioned him impudently, promising both relief and escape. He didn't reply; but merely got up and went back before the fireplace, his robes fuming. Vexed, Ellis stared him before going away, slamming the door behind her.

"What should I do?" Tom asked himself, though the voice of the portrait replied.

"In your heart you know the answer. You know that if you lose her, you will lose yourself as well."

"I… I cannot accept that I am to be bounded to someone! What should I do to undo this bond!"

"There is no way in the world to part two joined souls, just like blood ties can't be broken: Isabella is not stupid, and her advice is full of wisdom."

And with the sweet and remote voice of his mother echoing in his thoughts, Tom fell asleep.

* * *

The next day, everybody at Hogwarts knew something had happened during the night, mostly because Madam Pomfrey had forbidden any visits to the Hospital Wing. Isabella kept silent, but it wasn't hard connecting the Mediwitch's sudden stubbornness to something her cousin could have done to Ginny. But what? Did he try to use violence on Ginny while she was bedridden? Isabella chewed her thumbnail: She didn't deny that Tom is a sadistic and perverted megalomaniac with homicidal tendencies, but he was intelligent, if not brilliant, and he knew one thousand ways to modify and manipulate people's memory without leaving traces. If she wanted to know what happened, she had to talk with him. 

The bell rang and with a general sigh of relief, the students put their books and parchments in their backpacks and rushed out the classroom. Isabella thought it was worth it to spend the first ten minutes of her lunch to talk with her cousin.

* * *

"… the essays are to be delivered next Monday. And remember: no less than three-feet-long and no more than five-feet-long," ended Tom, dismissing the sixth year class. He watched the teenagers exiting in small groups, exchanging opinions and notes about the lesson. When almost everybody was outside the classroom, he looked out the door. "Miss Black, you've dropped something." 

Loveday turned around, frowning slightly, before going back into the classroom: Tom took her hand and closed her fingers around the cool metallic object he had placed there. "You should take better care of your mother's mementos," he said with an eerie smile.

Loveday was puzzled, she had left her mother's belongings at Villa Evoli in a safe place she alone knew about. She opened her hands and looked down on the object and at once an expression of pleased surprise appeared on her face. It was a brooch shaped like two silvery entwined snakes; it was the logo of the Black Coats, the elite of the Death Eaters. She gasped incredulously, moving her eyes frantically from the brooch to Tom and back to the brooch, before she knelt and lowered her head.

"My Lord…"

"Professor will be fine, at least till there's no risk of being eavesdropped on," he replied, locking the door. "Speak."

Loveday raised her head, feeling her mouth suddenly dry. She was in the presence of her Lord; she was seeing him as only few had had the honour.

"If I had known who you are, I wouldn't…" She blushed, as she lacked the courage to finish her sentence.

"It is the ignorance of many that allows me to be here, and I wanted to see if you are worthy to carry on Rosa's work," replied the Dark Lord, sitting on a desk and watched the young Death Eater amusedly.

"I… am I?" asked Loveday shyly: she craved for an affirmative answer, and to hear from her Lord and Master that Rosa Evoli had been a loyal and devoted follower, that she was her mother's worthy daughter.

"Rosa offered your life to me even before you were born. Do you know why I had to wait thirteen years to come back and lead you all?" he asked, grabbing her chin with two fingers and forced Loveday to look into his eyes. "It's because of you, Loveday Black, because your mother (the only one who found me at that time) died in childbirth.  
"Now go and live with this burden, and try to make up for the years I've lost because of you."

Loveday bit her lower lip: she wanted to ask more, as she knew almost nothing about her mother, but she just said: "Tell me how, my Lor- Professor, and I'll obey."

Tom smirked, patting her cheek. "Carry on your intelligence deed inside the Order of the Phoenix, I want the name of their new Secret Keeper: focus your efforts on that and keep me informed. Do not get caught, Rosa was an excellent actress."

Loveday nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. Now, what was she going to do when she heard her Housemates talk about the DADA teacher inappropriately ? Neither her godmother nor Mrs. Fudge had told her about Professor Meridiæ's real identity, and it should be a secret she cannot reveal, not even to her fellow Death Eaters. Hugging the brooch and brooding over what she was told, Loveday took her leave. .

* * *

As he headed back to his chambers, Tom met a house elf and he ordered him to bring his lunch in his rooms. With a sigh Tom pronounced his password and entered, only to find an unexpected visitor. With her legs crossed and half stretched on the easy chair, Isabella stared at him, drumming her fingers on the armrest. 

"About time! If it hadn't been for Auntie, I would have fallen asleep."

Tom closed the door and sat on a footrest: he raised his eyes, moving them from his cousin to his mother's portrait and vice versa. "What do you want, Isabellina?"

"What have you done to Gin?"

"Don't reply with another question. And you have no right to demand an explanation for what I did or did not do."

"Then you admit it! If auntie hasn't yet explained everything to me, I would've suspected that you..."

He glared at her and Isabella kept silent. "I'm waiting for an answer." Tom hissed.

"You know why I am here, this is our usual topic: how many times do I have to tell you to leave Gin in peace, at least for a little bit? If she has done what I think she did, it would be all your fault."

Tom stood up, howling furiously. "Who do you think you are, the voice of my conscience!"

"Just a talking cricket. Look, I know what it would mean for you if something happens to her. Give her some rest, and let her recover her strengths."

Tom lowered his eyes, and chewed his lower lip; he looked up at his mother's portrait. The young woman smiled motherly at him and whispered with a light voice. "The girl is frayed by your desire, on the edge of insanity. And if she falls in that abyss; if she loses herself, then even you… if two shares part of their soul, nobody knows what would happen to the other if one goes mad or dies, you could pay a too high penalty."

"Right, and then you must give the both of you time to understand that you are head-over-heels for each other!" Ended Isabella with a wink.

Tom looked at her grimly, he then sighed. "Okay, okay! Tell her... tell her that I won't annoy her for a bit of time."

* * *

Ginny seemed to recover slowly. Eventually, the mixture of resignation and combativeness replaced the blankness in her eyes, colour went back to her still gaunt cheeks and a little interest for schoolbooks began to fill the monotony of her days. However, unchanged was the wall of silence, wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. She merely nodded or shook her head when spoken to, and if something or anyone annoyed her, she turned to the other side and pulled the sheet over her head. When Madam Pomfrey thought her state was fairly stable, Madam Pomfrey decided it was time for the girl to be back in the scholastic community. They urged Ginny's Housemates to look after her, to pay attention that her peace wasn't disturbed, and to warn the teachers at any sign of relapse. 

The first time that Ginny made her appearance in the Great Hall, everybody stared at her, and her movements were followed by whispers. During the lessons, Colin and Isabella eluded every question or insinuation, their defending of Ginny even leading to fights when the Slytherins resumed their wicked remarks.

Tom deliberately avoided looking at Ginny in the eyes, instead staring at her tie when he had to talk to her. It was as if the memory of that dull look and that insane smile burned in his mind, and the wizard forced himself to keep a certain formality in his words and barely showed a proper worry for her. Severus Snape was of a different opinion and he behaved as if nothing had happened. Showing the proverbial insensibility and lack of tact of his House, he made weigh of her extended absence, and even if he was aware of her muteness, he insisted on asking her questions upon questions, and then to take her points upon points. In actuality, the girl's apathy exasperated him and he just wanted instigate a reaction - any reaction- in his student with his attitude .

After two theoretical lessons, Snape gave the procedure for the preparation of _Veritaserum_. While he walked among the benches, he watched the students working eagerly ,as he gave indications about the potion's appearance or bitterly reproached those who made errors. "If you had follow the instructions, your potion should be rusty blue and the fumes light and opalescent, with a scent of dries herbs. But I smell boiled cabbage…" he hissed, looking around to locate the cauldron.

A metallic noise followed by a hiss growing increasingly louder alarmed the teacher. He turned to see the flames high under a cauldron as the potion boiled dangerously; When he saw only the curve of the girl's back, it was obvious she was picking up something from the floor. With a sudden movement, Snape extracted his wand and yelled "Everybody down!"

The cauldron exploded with a deafening boom, as the potion splattered on the walls and furniture and burned those who hadn't moved fast enough. The teacher sighed in relief when he made the potion disappear, and he turned to the absent-minded student with a homicidal look, not amazed to see it was Ginny (he had expected something like that). Ginny looked blankly at the flames, as if her missing cauldron surprised her.

"Miss Weasley, do you know the danger in which you have put the whole class in?" he spat angrily. With a gasp, Ginny looked at him , she then lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip. "Read the whole procedure."

The girl neither moved nor answered as she continued to stare at her shoes. Behind her shoulders the malevolent whispers of the Slytherins and the worried murmurs of the Gryffindors rose quietly.

"Well, Miss Weasley?" And silence fell in the classroom. "Since you refuse to answer… As you wish: ten points from Gryffindor for your carelessness, ten for your dullness and other ten to not answer my question; finally a detention to have almost destroyed my classroom." At the word _detention_, Ginny stared at her teacher; her face was a pale mask of terror. "I'll wait for you here this evening, right after dinner. And bring your materials."

* * *

Tom and Ellis met in the staff room for their usual tea together. The woman lifted her eyes beyond the edge of the cup and stared the wizard, who was eating a slice of chocolate cake. The Arithmancy teacher had many questions about the DADA teacher, unanswered questions that he eluded with cunning ability. 

For Ellis, the world was made of formulas and equations, might it be a Physics law or a string of runes; she had inherited this way to view the world from her parents, who were both Math teachers. Smiling, she remembered the shock her letter had caused in her family and how her father had said that _there was no such thing as magic, it was just a thing to impress simple minds_. Ellis didn't like doubts, for her everything had a reasonable explanation. Looking at Tom, she could only wonder what was inside that black and curly head of his.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked at last, tired with her doubts and the silence.

He looked at her, arching an eyebrow slightly. "I'm just wondering how Bill is feeling about his sister in this difficult situation. I'm a curious man."

"Careful, curiosity killed the cat," Ellis smiled, tilting her head.

Tom looked at her and smiled sardonically, which cause a shiver to run down Ellis' back . "You do not even know how damn true that is."

"Your lips are smudged with chocolate."

"Where?"

"Here," she answered pointing out the corner of her own lips.

Tom thanked her and took a napkin, but Ellis stopped him and leaning forward, she placed her lips on his, licking away the crumb of cake. As soon as the kiss deepened, Tom tightened his lips and drew back. Ellis looked at him with a pout and whispered with a childish voice. "Why are you so cold?"

He smiled, a smile that was asymmetrical and slightly mocking, and he soothed her by grazing the tip of her nose with his forefinger. "This is neither the place nor the time for that kind of entertainment. What would have happened if someone came in… let's say Severus, if I haven't stopped you and he catch us?"

"He would have been jealous, because with his unneat looks and his bad temper, no one will ever grow attached to him."

Tom scowled and hissed angrily. "You should learn to not speak ill of those who can't reply to you because they have left this world." He placed the dish on the table and left, leaving alone Ellis with new unanswered questions.

* * *

After Dinner, Ginny went to the dorm to take her Potions materials. Not thinking it opportune to leave her alone, Isabella went with her friend. They arrived in front of the Potions class's door, and the brunette smiled and squeezed Ginny's hand. Ginny took a deep breath and knocked: Snape himself opened the door and let her in. 

"May I help you, Miss Trao?" he hissed, staring at the girl. Isabella glanced at Ginny and then at the Potion Master.

Isabella shrugged her shoulder and tilted her head. "What time will Gin's detention be over? After what happened to her, I hope you won't let her wander alone!"

"I will provide. Now, go away."

Isabella glanced again at Ginny, said goodbye and left. The teacher closed the door and pointed to a table. "I want you to do the potion again and then, successful or not, we'll test it on you." He sat at his desk and twisted his mouth in a frown as he read an essay. Every so often, he looked at the girl or approached her to check the potion. Ginny was mentally repeating the instructions, trying to concentrate about what she was doing: add a pinch of powdered topaz… mix seven spoonfuls of ash sap… stir ten times clockwise and ten counter clockwise… bring to boiling point and add three drops of extract of salamander liver… three drops… Three drops of _Veritaserum_ were enough to confess some one's most intimate secret.

"P-professor?" Her first word after days.

Snape raised his head, an expression between amazement and relief on his face, yet his voice sounded cold and subtle. "Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"I was wondering…"

"Could you speak louder?" he hissed leaning forward.

Ginny closed her eyes, took a deep breath and whispered with a barely audible voice. "I was wondering, if someone cast a spell on somebody else, a spell to not let this person reveal some important information… _Veritaserum_ allow this somebody tell what she is bound to not repeat?"

"Miss Weasley, if you are referring to a memory charm…"

"I wish it was just a memory charm! It's another kind of spell, a traceless spell that makes you feel ill every time you try to talk or even merely think about what you know!" she replied with more strength in her voice.

The teacher jumped and with two long footsteps he reached her and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Is that what they have done to you, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny lowered her head, and while new tears flowed down her cheeks she nodded slightly. Snape let her go and after extinguishing the fire under the cauldron, he began pacing back and forth nervously, running a hand through his hair.

"The interaction between potions and spells is the subject of research," he said after a long silence. "It is mostly an unexplored field, with few rules and many exceptions. Generally a spell and a potion with opposite effects has the tendency to nullify each other, and one functions as a catalyst on the other if they have similar functions. But as for what concerns a spell and a potion with nothing in common, it's an uncertainty."

"Does it mean it couldn't work?"

"It means that I don't know how that spell would react: maybe we would be able to by-pass it or maybe not, if we don't try we wouldn't know. It could be very dangerous, Ms. Weasley."

"I… I don't care! I want to get this burden off my chest, I want to not be afraid to be alone in a room, I want him to realize that I am **not** his damn china doll!" she ended, though her voice was shaken by sobs, yet firm and determined.

The teacher folded his arms, wondering if it was worth the risk and try. But it was obvious that what Ginny wanted to tell him could change the fate of the war to their advantage. Snape invited the girl into the nearby room and sent a note to the house elves, ordering them to bring some tea. Ginny sat on an old leather easy chair and she looked around, torturing her robe's fabric with her fidgeting. She was in the Potion Master's private living room: the furniture was rather old but well-kept, a wall was completely occupied by a bookcase and the tapestry was of a dusty green. To her nostrils came a scent of spices and dried herbs, mixed to burn as incense. Among the shadows of a shelf she glimpsed a small teddy bear next to a photo frame. With a metallic noise, a tray with two cups, a teapot and a sugar bowl appeared on the table. Snape poured the tea and then, taken a vial from a cupboard, he poured a couple of drops of crystalline liquid in a cup. "Are you sure, Miss Weasley?" he asked.

Ginny took the cup and sipped the amber liquid, pursing her lips. "It's bitter, may I have some sugar?"

"It would blandish the potion's effect," the teacher replied, watching her. "What is your name?"

"Virginia Molly Weasley," she answered mechanically, her eyes blank.

The wizard took a deep breath. "Tell me everything you know about the Dark Lord."

"Using me as a key element for a spell, he has been able to recover his full powers. Actually I don't know this spell's consequences, but he doesn't like some of them. Moreover it has given him his old look."

"Old look? What do you mean?"

"The look he had when he was young: Headmaster Dumbledore would have recognized him, but he's dead. Harry would too, but he needs to put the pieces together. Until last spring we were in his hideaway, but he isn't there now: he is--"

The convulsions blocked her words, and only a choked moan came from her throat. With a sudden gesture, Severus held her, fighting against the convulsions. With some difficulty he took the antidote and forced some drops down the girl's throat. Ginny wriggled and the convulsions dropped. Without strength, the young witch laid against the Potion Master, she breathed as if there was water in her lungs.

"What happened?" she asked as soon as she was able to speak.

Snape helped her get up and escorted her to the door. "Convulsions are a symptom of _Veritaserum_ poisoning, probably this is the spell reaction. I'm going to take you to the Hospital wing and..."

"No! I'm bored of going to Madam Pomfrey with everything !"

"Miss Weasley, I hope you realize what has happened: we have to check that the interaction hasn't caused damages."

"I'm all right, I just need to sleep and I want to sleep in my bed! But what... how much was I able to...?"

"Enough to do something," he replied while they went up the staircases: they reached the Fat Lady, who mumbled sleepily when they told her the password.

* * *

Ginny looked at Tom furtively, pretending to follow the lesson. She sensed something strange in him and once or twice their looks met and in his eyes she saw a severe and hardly placated anger. Did Tom know about her confidences with Professor Snape? It was impossible that the Potions master had informed someone unrelated to the Order of the Phoenix. 

Ginny glanced at Isabella, who looked nervous, as if she had a secret she wanted to reveal but couldn't. Isabella looked at her and gave her a thoughtless smile. She leaned towards Ginny and opened her mouth as to tell her something of terrible and important, but before she could utter a word, the bell rang, announcing both the end of class and the start of lunchtime. Chatting happily, the students said goodbye to the teacher and went to the Great Hall.

"Can you stay ten minutes, Miss Weasley? I have to talk with you." Tom said, collecting some parchments.

Ginny lingered on the threshold and she looked at Luna and Isabella; the first shrugged her shoulders, and the latter, instead, rolled her eyes in annoyance and told her to be careful. With a sigh, Ginny said goodbye to the two girls and turned toward the man; her knees trembling without reason.

"It seems that last time's lesson was useless, Virginia. Were you unsatisfied by your attempt to throw yourself from the Astronomy Tower? Did you want to kill yourself by telling everything to that filthy traitor?" Tom hissed, his eyes screwed in furious slits.

She stared at him in terror, cursing herself to have not asked the girls to wait for her in the hallway. "How… how do you know!"

"I know every thought in your mind and word on your lips. You may ignore or not admit it, but you know I'm with you, always."

"You told me you would leave me in peace!" she sobbed, withdrawing.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her. "I said that, but if you think I'll let you achieve my downfall because of your foolish Gryffindor bravery, you are mistaken!" he hissed with a velvety voice, pushing her against the door.

* * *

As soon as the class was over, Ellis Vector waited for her students to leave the classroom, before writing a note for the house elves. Taking a mirror from a pocket, she rearranged a rebellious strand of hair: she wanted to have lunch with Tom, and maybe get some answers. Humming a happy tune, the young teacher went toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts' classroom since Tom used to stay a couple of minutes there before go in the Great Hall. She boldly raised her hand, but a sudden knock on the door of Defense's classroom made her heart jump in her throat. What was that? Maybe a creature for the next fourth year class? She heard a choked sob and Ellis could do nothing but give in to the curiosity as she placed her ear against the door to listen. 

"So, am I only a foolish girl to you?" a feminine voice whispered, hardly audible. Ellis frowned; the voice familiar.

"Not only, my dear, but you have betrayed my trust and I don't tolerate it."

"Are **you** talking about trust? What should I say then? You have-"

"I would never ever think you would be jealous, Miss Weasley! Fear not, you are my dear little doll and nobody will take your place, if that is what you want to hear."

"No, I just want you to-" The sentence ended in an unequivocal moan.

Ellis withdrew, placing a hand on her mouth as her eyes widened. Thomas, _her_ Thomas and Miss Weasley! She would never have imagined that they would… what she had heard seemed obvious and it seemed they have had a long relationship. When did they meet? Since when were they together? But above all, what was _she_ to Thomas? Tightening her eyes and lips in a pained grimace, Ellis held back her tears and fled to her chambers noiselessly.

* * *

Trying to calm the turmoil in herself, Professor Vector had behaved as if she knew nothing. More than once, she had felt Ginny's eyes on her, eyes that were filled with confused emotions. As she passed the girl, Ellis smelled her scent of violets. She had smelt the ghost of that perfume among the odours on her lover's body, it was mixed to the man's cologne, creating the most sensual of fragrances. But only that afternoon had she recognized it as the scent of another woman. As the last bell rung, Ellis invited her rival to stay and she heard one of the girls giggle. "First Professor Meridiæ and now Professor Vector. Spit it out, Ginny, did you catch them?"

Once alone, the two witches peered at each other silently, a wall of resentment and jealousy between them. It was an enormous effort for Ellis to keep her voice cold. "Well, Miss Weasley, I suppose we have a question to resolve, you and I."

Ginny arched an eyebrow and rearranged the backpack on her shoulders. "Pardon?"

"I know about you and Thomas," she hissed and her heart triumphed at seeing Ginny turn pale.

The girl stared at her speechlessly - thousand of thoughts and emotions whirling in her mind. The jealousy and the will to defend a violated intimacy was strong, on the other hand the hope and relief to see a light in the obscurity hanging on her life was strong as well. "What do you know?"

"Enough to expel you both from Hogwarts. But before that, I want some answers."

Ginny looked at her, resigned and sympathetic. "If you want answers, Professor Vector, you have addressed the wrong person.

"I want to give you some objective advice and ask you a favour; don't waste time and let that these questions be unanswered. Remember that curiosity killed the cat."


	15. Cat's couriosity part 2

On the the sixteenth of November, Headmaster Flitwick Headmaster announced that there was going to be the Yule Ball this year, as many students were planning to stay over Christmas Break. The situation outside Hogwarts has become more dangerous and the parents chose to spend Christmas alone, rather than having their children leave Hogwarts. Though the school is not as safe as before Dumbledore's death, it is still safer than other places in Wizarding Britain.

Because of the impending Yule Ball, during the first Hogsmeade weekend, in a store on Hogsmeade main street, five Gryffindor girls were searching for the prefect dress robe to wear at the Yule Ball. In front of the mirror, Chantal was trying on some dress robes under Audrey's amused look. Asia, was examining the remnants of fabrics with a salesclerk, while Ginny was looking at the dresses' price tags.

"What are you going to wear, Isa?" asked Audrey, without removing her eyes from Chantal trying on various dress robes.

Isabella raised her gaze from the fashion magazine that she was skimming through and grinned. "I don't know: I asked my friends to buy something nice for me."

"What if the dress robe isn't your size or you don't like it?" intervened Chantal. "Ugh, this one makes my hips look too large."

"Try the lilac one, the outfit shouldn't make you look like a fat cow.  
"Green apple or champagne?" Asia asked, with two remnants of fabric on her shoulders as she turned toward her dorm mates.

"I thing green apple looks better," replied Isabella, she then addressed the black girl. "My friends know me and my style. What about you Audrey?"

The odd-eyes girl ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "I don't know if I am going to the ball, no one has asked me yet."

"Me either, But you can have more fun if you don't have a partner."

"I have been asked by Richwar," whispered Asia, "although I didn't want to accept, but he insisted so much..."

"At last! He's been trying to date you for three years!" Chantal laughed winking, as her hands smoothed the lilac fabric. Asia snorted as she looked at some buttons. "What about you, Ginny?"

"Obviously she'll go to the ball, after all she has been asked by Philip Phelps."

"That's not true, Audrey! Nobody asked me!"

"Nonsense, everybody knows that the Ravenclaw Keeper has a crush on you, and if he hasn't asked you yet, he'll do it soon."

"That's means you have to wear a gorgeous dress robe!" Asia exclaimed, looking at Ginny.

Ginny snorted and sunk her hands in her jeans' pockets. "They're too expensive, and the blue one still fit me."

"The blue one?! It was out of fashion even four years ago! You'll make a fool of yourself."

"I don't care."

Asia sighed and shook her head, she then mumbled. "Ok, when we get be back to school, I'll see what I can do with it."

After their shopping, the girl went to The Three Broomsticks for lunch. They sat at a table, talking about the imminent ball. Ginny had never cared for such gossips before, and that year especially the young witch's thoughts were elsewhere. The idea of going to the ball didn't thrill her, even if she would be asked. It would have been perfect if Tom deserted that event, and after what had happened she barely bore his sight in the classroom: she wanted to spend a quiet Christmas with her family, but Bill had insisted to stay at Hogwarts, after all their family was going to join them to spend Christmas day at Bill's cottage and the Headmaster had already given her permission.

To spend Christmas evening between the dorm and the Common Room was a tempting idea, it would gave her the opportunity to think about her life. But what if, taking advantage of the Ball and of her solitude, Tom went to her with his usual claims? She felt a shiver ran down her back and Ginny frowned at her Butterbeer. To spend Christmas evening with Tom, just the two of them; it had an eccentric attraction that made her feel as if flames were lit in her veins. Every time she thought about Tom, she felt as if she was split in two opposing halves, who fought against each other.

With a desolate sigh, Ginny leaned against the back of her chair, watching her Housemates' happy and thoughtless faces with envy. How she wanted to be in their place, with only a dress robe and the N.E.W.T.s to worry about! She wondered what they would have done in her place. Ginny balanced on the chair's back legs and right then she noticed some people walking in the street. Recognizing them, Ginny apologized to her friends, grabbed her purse and went out.

"Blaise?" She called out. Blaise turned, amazed and cheerful to see her. He smiled sweetly and politely at her and greeted her by tilting his head slightly. "Good morning, Virginia, I'm glad to see that you are well."

The girl blushed and she smiled back. "You look good yourself . Why didn't you tell me you were going to come to Hogsmeade?"

"Actually, I have only come to say goodbye to these lovely ladies," he replied, looking Melinda and his nieces Sasha and Sofja. "I am to leave with my mother the day after tomorrow," he explained with a point of sadness, he then added. "I have heard about what happened, I hope you didn't get hurt."

Ginny nodded, smiling nervously, "Now I'm… better, quieter."

Blaise was relieved to hear that, as well as Melinda. One of the twins pulled the boy's cloak, asking him something that Ginny couldn't understand. Blaise nodded and smiled. Looking embarrassed, he asked the young witch. "Have you had lunch yet, Virginia?"

Ginny was surprised by that question. "No, my friends and I just sat down," she replied, glancing at The Three Broomsticks' windows and looked at her friends.

Melinda followed her gaze. "Then, if you don't mind, why don't you have lunch with us at The Enchanted Hawthorn?"

"Well, I don't know… that tea house is so expensive that I cannot afford even a glass of water…"

"Virginia, you don't need excuses if you prefer your friends to us…" There was a touch of disappointment in Blaise's voice.

Ginny gasped, opening wide her eye. "Oh no, don't ever think that!" she exclaimed, glancing again inside The Three Broomstick and seeing Isabella and Audrey giving her the thumbs up. "Well, just let me fetch my bag and cloak."

* * *

The door opened with a tinkle and Loveday cringed at the sight of the beauty parlour's interiors. She couldn't understand why she had to resort to such subterfuges to receive her orders. Madame Elvira Dove Lephon, a namby-pamby middle-aged woman who tried to look like a young girl, welcomed her.

"Hello, honey. Haircut? Dye? Streaks? Or do we want to get rid of those ruffled curls?" asked the owner as she twirled a strand of the girl's hair.

Loveday held back the will to silence that woman forever and she replied. "A shampoo and an anti-frizzy hair treatment will be enough."

Madame Lephon hid her disappointment with a sugary smile as she put an arm around the girl's shoulders (now Loveday was seriously tempted to crucio that infuriating woman), leading her into the next room.

"Jean Claude, spread that dye in the proper way! Did you learn nothing in these five years?" she glossed, galling at her assistant, forced in a frilly bubblegum pink coat. "And when you've done, set Miss Babbit's hair. Straight as always. July honey?" Madame Lephon turned to the Slytherin girl "Or do you want to try my PerfCurl Ointment? I bet ringlets would fit you to perfection." She suggested with a smile.

"Maybe for the Yule Ball, Madame," July replied, and then she added. "Lovey, honey, I would never ever expect to see you here!"

Loveday forced a smile as she allowed the owner to lead her to a sink. "So you're a friend of July's, aren't you? We have to do something about this dark brown, it's so dull and _démodé_1! What about a Foxy Cooper Fizzy? It's one of those once a year dyes. It'll match your eyes and brighten you up!"

"Thank you, Madame." Loveday forced herself to be polite. "But as I said few minutes ago, a shampoo and an anti-frizzy hair treatment will be enough."

"Er… sure, honey, we'll straighten your hair after the shampoo." The owner insisted. "Please Juan, carefully massage her scalp and use a product from the SuperSleek line."

The assistant replied with a nod and wrapped a towel around the girl's shoulders. When Madame Lephon was out of earshot, the young wizard stooped slightly to Loveday and he smirked. "Are you sure you don't want your hair dyed Foxy Cooper Fizzy, _Querida_2?"

Loveday fixed her greyish-blue eyes on his grey ones. "Did you forget that if you provoke me, you would get tied to a bed, Juan? Look at you, sinking so low as to work here…"

"At least I don't have to be a good boy in a Halfblood werewolf's hole," he hissed, massaging her scalp, then he clanked at the other customers and he stooped more on her. "Where's our girlfriend?"

Loveday tightened her lips and lowered her voice. "She's around here with those Griffin geese and that Trao girl. I've a _daimon_ following her: if some one dares to… bother her, it'll act in my place."

"Just keep her away from the village's centre and somewhere near the forest, this afternoon."

The girl snorted. "It's not fair you have fun when I have to be out to nurse that-"

"Lovey, I would never expect you to be so superficial!" A scandalized July Babbit exclaimed . "Flirting with a gay man when you have a boyfriend… it's outrageous!"

Loveday bit her tongue in order to not verbally lash out at her classmate as Juan snickered. "I have to formally, as part of the contract. But I can show you my sexual preferences hadn't changed since when we split up. After all, François isn't a jealous fellow…" he ended, wrapping her hair with a clean towel as he led her to a chair. "So, _señorita_, would you like your hair straightened?"

"Go, go, wash Mrs Collins' hair," Madame Lephon pushed him away with a crossed wave of her hand. Loveday held back a wicked grin. Despite that cute face that makes you want to jump him, Juan was an unprincipled man who often sought revenge. Who knows, maybe later that afternoon Madame Lephon would get some unpleasant visitors. The young witch yawned, she hated going to a hairdresser because it made her feel sleepy, and sleepiness cloud be dangerous.

"Lovey, what do you think about my new hair colour?" chirruped July Babbit, flipping her hair over a shoulder. "It's Aran Island's Fae, one of Madame's exclusive dyes."

_Goose_, Loveday thought. "It looks like an awful imitation of Weasley red," were Loveday's actual words.

* * *

A deathly silence reigned in the forest while the sun rays made the snow sparkle, giving this a dreamlike feel. A dream that would soon turn into a nightmare.

The Death Eaters were waiting in a clearing encircled by ghostly oaks. There was a crack and after a moment of alarm, the thirty black-cloaked figures knelt down, making room for their Lord.

"Is everything ready?"

"We are only awaiting your last orders, my Lord."

The Dark Lord barely waved his hand and a map of the village appeared in the middle of the Dark circle.  
"There will be multiple attacks at these points, slightly offset by a few minutes, but between the first and the last there have to pass no more than ten minutes. Then you'll move in open order along these main direction, gathering in the centre and the north part of the village, but groups A and C will move southwards: the Aurors must think we are moving randomly. You have thirty minutes to move the attacks to this point, then groups D and F will let the Aurors surround them and they'll withdraw on the quay. Did you already turned it into a Portkey to work at three thirty-six?"

"Yes, my Lord," replied a Death Eater. "It'll get them to Blackpole, if by chance the Aurors will be able to follow them."

"Good," nodded Lord Voldemort, he then resumed the explanation of his plan. "After the first group has left Hogsmeade, the other ones will withdraw using the Portkeys or Disapparating at these points. You needn't kill, but you can take prisoners, and if you run into the child of a fellow Death Eater, don't hurt him or her too much. A couple of days in the Hospital Wing will be enough to remove any doubt about their families' loyalties.  
"Now, our main targets." With a wave of his hand, the map turned into the shape of a Hogwarts's student. "If you find this one, have fun: I want this person to have an at least four-months-long stay at St Mungo's."

"What if someone is going to get killed?" snickered a Death Eater, already looking forward to the bloodshed.

"Some permanent magical damages will be enough, madam," the Dark Wizard replied, and then he waved his hand again. "About this other person, all you have to do is to drive her in this point. She's my prey and I want to take care of her myself.  
"Artist, fill in your Muse about the plan, and most of all tell her to not get angry if one of your mates will be forced to bruise her." The Death Eater in question nodded. "Is everything clear?"

The Death Eaters replied yes unanimously, and the Dark Lord ordered them to get ready.

* * *

The tray sat in the middle of the unmade bed, and the girl was lying on her side, sipping lazily from a cup of tea.

"Let me get this straight: I have to make an idiot of myself?"

"_Mais oui, ma chère_," replied the boy, shaking slightly his head and smiling.

"Even if I run into that insignificant Malfoy?!"

"_Ma Muse Malade_, I doubt Draco is so stupid to arouse your anger: 'e knows pretty well w'at you are capable of w'en you get angry."

"I have to act like a good girl while you are having fun: that's not fair!"

"Zese are ze Dark Lord's orders, Loveday," replied François quietly as he got dressed.

Vexed, Loveday snorted. She looked at the Death Eater's back: there was still half an hour to go to the attack's beginning. On the one hand, she wanted to just ignore her orders and join François and his group. But on the other hand she couldn't blow her cover, and if the Aurors didn't catch her she would meet the Dark Lord's wrath. And yet Loveday thought it was unfair: how can she show that she was her mother's worthy daughter if she was forced to stay back? How can she prove her valour, her loyalty to her Lord if he assigned her such absurd and infuriating tasks? That was not the way to perform her duty on the Dark side! At least, she didn't so. Sensing her thoughts, François leaned on her, brushing her lips with his own.

"Intelligence is important, _Ma Muse Malade_, even more zan ze normal activities. And it's more dangerous."

"But it isn't as satisfying as kicking some Mudblood arses!" she growled, still feeling vexed. Then she smirked wickedly. "My godmother and you should organize a nice Crucio-party for my birthday, don't you agree?"

"I zink it would be fair," nodded the boy, as he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. "_Alors, est-ce que il est tout clair?_"

"Yeah, should I repeat the plan word by word, Mr. Lesmaudit?"

"_Mais oui_," he snickered, teasing her.

Loveday threw a pillow at him. "Fuck you, Fran."

"Wiz you, _ma chère_?" he replied closing quickly the door before the hex hit him. François leaned against the door, smiling and shaking his head: he would have liked to continue that interesting conversation, but it was getting late and he couldn't waste time. He had barely made half a dozen of step in the hallway, when he heard the door opening behind him and some one pulling his cloak, making him turn around: Loveday pulled him to her, kissing him.

"Crucio those filthy bastards for me, too."

* * *

Fleur put the dish cloth in the laundry basket and handed the stack of plates to Bill, who put then in the cabinet. The woman felt a tickle at the nose, as she saw a mother holding hands with her two children passing before the garden. Tears flowed down her thin cheeks: why did her pain grow, instead of diminish? Why she couldn't accept that her Cyrille would never celebrate her first birthday, or brighten up their house with her presence? Bill left the last plate on the table and hugged his wife from behind, sinking his nose in her hair and rocking her slightly. Fleur turned around in his arms, hiding her face in his chest and crying silently. It hurt, it hurt so much to lose someone without having had enough time to get to know them.

"There will be other children," Mrs. Weasley had said to console the young couple, but both Bill and Fleur couldn't bear the thought of another child taking their baby Cyrille's place, at least not now, not when their world was still at war.

Bill raised his head to hold back his own tears, breathing in deeply. His body stiffened for a moment, then he tilted his wife's face towards him and wiped away her tears. "Quick, Fleur, you have to warn the Aurors."

Fleur looked at him puzzled. "_P-pourquoi_?" she whispered.

"Greyback, he's here. And he's not alone," he replied thoughtfully. He accioed his cloak and kissed his wife. "I'm going to fetch Ginny. Stay here, lock the door and do not open it to anyone if you aren't sure about their identity. I'll be back soon."

* * *

Ginny was a bit embarrassed and she wondered if it had been a good idea to accept Blaise's invitation after all. It wasn't that she felt uncomfortable with them, nevertheless, there was something wrong, like a badly animated photo that suddenly got stuck. Feeling stuck was doubtlessly the perfect expression to describe Ginny's feeling in that moment.

Melinda chewed on a morsel of her cake, glancing at the Gryffindor girl. She felt something was wrong (or rather, something wasn't what it had been) but she didn't have the change to talk with Ginny as much as she wanted. What should she do? She knew too well that Blaise's future happiness depended on the girl sitting in front of her.

"I hope that next year, you could pay a visit to us and come to Dolci Acque," Melinda finally said .

Ginny raised her eyes; she was surprised by that kind invitation. "I hope so, but I need to save money."

"You should know that is the least of your worries," said Melinda, smiling sweetly. "Blaise and I talked so much about you at home that mamma and our aunties want to meet you."

"You're forgetting that Aunt Sveva had already met Virginia last summer," Blaise cut in, as he served some cake to one of the twins.  
"Well, if you're going to visit Madame," glossed the other twin, "you have to come to St Petersburg! Monsieur Grand-père, le Prince, has and equal right to meet you!"

"Sasha, please…" started Blaise, who was obviously embarrassed, as he finished the sentence in Russian. Sasha laughed and nodded, giving a reply that both her sister and Melinda thought was funny.

Ginny smiled nervously, just to be polite, even if she did not understand a word of what they were saying. The grandfather clock struck three o'clock, reminding Ginny about her rendezvous with Philip Phelps. She excused herself and said goodbyes, zigzagging among the tables in the Tea House, going to the entrance.

"Virginia, wait!" She turned around, tilting her head. Blaise reached her, holding her purse. "You've forgotten it…"

Ginny smiled and thanked him with a nod: she was already late, and yet… and yet she felt unable to leave .

"Please, forgive Sasha and Sofja," he whispered, looking slightly embarrassed, "they tend to forget their manners as soon as they leave their house.  
"Sorry, I'm stopping you… and, you are busy with your Housemates this afternoon, aren't you?"

"Yes… no, I mean…" she stuttered, suddenly feeling guilty. "I… I have to meet Phelps, from Ravenclaw. I've accepted his invitation just to tease _him_… It sounded like a good idea then." Ginny didn't need to explain that the _him _was Riddle.

Blaise smiled bitterly and nodded. "Of course, after all you're not… engaged."

Neither of them said anything for several minutes, and then Ginny sighed and kissed his cheek. "Well, have fun. And thank you for lunch." Ginny lingered a bit more on the threshold, then she wrapped her scarf around her neck and walked away.

""

The first blast was so strong that it threw Ginny against a wall, and she hit her head on a fake red brick column.

Ginny was stunned, and she accepted the arm she was offered (it took her a bit of time to recognize it was Blaise's arm) and she let herself be led back to the Enchanted Hawthorn. Blaise closed the door behind them and caught the piece of chalk a waitress threw at him. "I hope you won't mind sealing the main entrance, Mr Zabini." she had said as she went to the backdoor.

The young wizard didn't reply, he just helped Ginny into a chair before he drew an arithmagic string on the door's jamb.

* * *

Ellis wrapped her cloak tightly around her body as the autumn wind raised whirls of dead leaves. She was in a half deserted square of Hogsmeade. In response to her persistent inquiry, Tom had agreed to meet her that day in that place, promising to satisfy the woman's curiosity.

The Arithmancy teacher looked at her watch for the umpteenth time. It was a quarter to three and he was late. Was it a manoeuvre to avoid her or something actually happened? Until the previous week, she would have chosen the latter option, but now she wasn't sure if she actually knew Tom. Sure, a voice echoed in Ellis's mind, she had met him just a couple of months before and she knew from experience that sometimes you won't know someone even after a life together. The woman snorted and raised her eyes to the sky, staring at the abstruse evolutions of the rain-promising clouds. She said to herself she would have waited just another couple of minutes and then… She thought about how the Weasleys would react to the scandal. She remembered Ginny's words: what did she mean with favour? Was she unwilling and Tom had subdued her with curses? She felt a shiver ran down her back as she wondered what kind of man she had grown attached to.

She looked at her watch for the last time and decided it was useless to wait any longer. Rearranging the brim of her hat, she went back towards the main street, wanting to be back at the castle as soon as possible and talk with Headmaster Flitwick.

The first explosion, coming from a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' branch, left her rather indifferent. Fred and George Weasley were known for their dangerous jokes and it was a mystery how they managed despite the Ministry's controls.

The second explosion, however, hit her fully. Pieces of bricks and slivers of glass pierced through her skin, and the passerbyers' panicked yells soon added to the deafening noise of new explosions; it was then that she saw them.

Half a dozen Death Eaters had appeared among the crowd, further spreading the panic. A patrol of Aurors intervened at once and a battle sparked off in the middle of the village. The young teacher's first thought was for the students' safety. Pushing her way through the crowd, she slipped in an alley and reached the places where the students used to spend their time at Hogsmeade.

Ellis had never been good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, she had never understand the attack and defensive spells' logic but she knew that, sooner or later, there would be an occasion in which such knowledge would make the difference between life and death: Ellis was a thinker, not a warrior, and yet she held her wand as she searched among her schooldays' memories for those words. Hidden under a porch, the young teacher watched and waited, with a sprint she crossed the street and reached a group of fourth years. "Come on, hold out your wands and follow me!" She spurred them on, without moving her eyes from five or six Death Eaters who were torturing an Auror after have killed his partner.

She led the teenagers to Honey Dukes without knowing why. The memory came back unexpectedly, filling her heart with relief. She didn't remember who has said it or if it was mere gossip, but in the candy shop's stores there should be a secret passage that led to Hogwarts. Ellis changed excited whispers with the owner and they went to make sure of that memory's truthfulness: the secret passage was there, and now they have a way to save the students.

Ellis went back to the street again, informing every student she can find about the place where they can find shelter. She met two other students a pair of siblings, and one more time she infused her courage and she shielded them. But when there was a mere thirty feet between them and their safety, she saw another small group of Death Eaters. They have just killed a man -she didn't know if he was an Auror or an innocent passer-by- and now they were looking around for a new victim. The Arithmancy teacher told the two students to not move and to run inside the shop as soon as the way was clear; she then took a deep breath and appeared in the middle of the street.

Seeing a easy prey, the Death Eaters exchanged words muffled by their white masks on their faces. Ellis ran fast enough so they can't catch up but slow enough to not shake them off, and she was amazed that none of her pursuers Apparated before her. She thought perhaps they wanted to play cat and mouse with her. She headed towards the Forbidden Forest, where the houses became scattered and wilder. She overcame a belt of trees that hid her from the street and she stayed in silence, watching her pursuers look around and hiss angrily at losing her. Only after the Death Eaters have disapparated did Ellis sigh in relief. She leaned against a tree trunk, panting, then she closed her eyes and was about to disapparate, focusing her minds on her destination. But something - maybe a curse- made her fall flat on her face.

"Is this how you were raised, Miss Vector? To leave without saying goodbye?" hissed a malevolent, yet velvety voice.

Ellis turned and stared in terror at the figure in front of her. With a dark night cloak wrapped around his body and the hood lowered on his head, Lord Voldemort stared at her through the slits of his black mask. The witch screamed, forcing her legs to action without being able to move them.

"Are you leaving? So soon? And yet you had insisted to meet me, my dear Ellis…" he sniggered while his gloved hands loosen the leather strings and took off his mask.

"You?!" she gasped, recognizing her lover as the Dark Lord.

"Who else?"

"I-I… you…"

"My dear, I promised you that today I will answer all your questions, didn't I?" She nodded, her face pale with fear. "Well, could you be so kind to ask me these questions of yours in a brief way or am I asking too much of your mental faculties?"

Ellis stared at the Dark Lord; she then tightened her lips and whispered, as the tears streamed down her face. "Miss Weasley and you… ho-how…?"

"I knew you would have asked about that." he replied calmly, leaning on her and grabbing her chin with two fingers. "You know, after the failure of the Chamber of Secrets, the part of my soul I had infused in my diary… it transferred inside Virginia's body.  
"Now, you must understand that it isn't pleasant to have only three quarters of soul, so I took back the missing part of me. You know, Ellis, this kind of magic makes you pay a very high penalty and I've found myself bound to Virginia, so why shouldn't I take advantage of it? You do not even know how pleasant it is sink in her flesh, the feeling of being wrapped up in her moist and warm embrace, or to hear her voice moan my name, knowing that nobody else will be able to bring her to such peaks of pleasure.   
"Actually I'm not saying that my time with you haven't been pleasant, but it isn't the same thing. You, Ellis Vector, are bed meat; something to use for the mere physical pleasure, nothing more than a gymnastic exercise. Though you are unworthy, you would have continued to enjoy my interest if **you** hadn't been a nosy kitten. All those questions were such a bore… but it was easy to change the topic, a nice fairy tale and you were happy. But alas! You haven't been able to hold back your curiosity: perhaps it has been only a minor that the other day you ran into Virginia and me, and I would have even let that pass. What a mistake has been to not act at once, Ellis! What an unforgivable error to be carried away by jealousy and curiosity!  
"Luckily, your evaluation error is advantageous for me: I can punish you for your curiosity without giving you the possibility to spill the beans, without let you ruin my precious cover."

"Will… will you kill me then…?"

"Sure, dear Ellis, curiosity killed the cat.   
"Can you hearing what is happening in the village? If it weren't for **you**, I wouldn't have been forced to organize this attack. If **you** had known your place, now there wouldn't be a battle: **you** are the reason for every wounded and every dead person. I am not evil, Ellis, people make me act this way: is it my fault if **you** are a nosy girl? But if your actions can damage me, I have every right to make up for it. Don't be afraid -at least not too much- because I don't want to use the _Avada Kedavra_: after a bit it becomes boring… we'll make your last moments as pleasant as possible. Pleasant for me, of course."

And with a smile that promised nothing good, Tom bit her lips while his hands tore the woman's dress and injured her flesh. He took her, gloating like a child playing with a new toy, combining the Imperius Curse's docility and Cruciatus Curse's atrocious pain to the humiliation of rape. When he was satisfied, Tom sat against a tree trunk, and listened to the noises of the battle. Ellis stared at him, more dead than alive, with glassy eyes; at every breath spurts of blood came from her nose and mouth.

He smiled sardonically and, toying with his wand, asked with nonchalance. "Well, Ellis, how does it feels after you have been fucked by Lord Voldemort?"

The mask of muscle and tissue that had been the woman's face contracted in an indecipherable grimace; she wriggled and didn't move any more. Tom got up and kicked the corpse on the back, enjoying the sight of that devastated body.

"My Lord?" A voice whispered behind his shoulders. Tom turned suddenly, his wand ready and a curse on his lips. The Death Eater started and then bowed. "My Lord and Master, the Aurors are coming here."

"Whatever you have seen, Loveday, forget it for your own well being. "

"Forget what, my Lord? All I have seen was you giving that Mudblood slut what she deserved."

Tom smiled his asymmetrical smile and made his mask and cloak vanish. "You're a good girl, Loveday, keep on in this way and you will go far." He handed her his wand. "Stupefy me, leave my wand near me and scream with all the breath in your lungs."

"Stupefy you, my Lord?! But..."

"Do not argue, do it and be as convincing as possible when those filthy Aurors come!"

The young Death Eater wanted to protest, but hearing their enemies approaching, she aimed the wand against her Lord.

"_Stupefy_!"

* * *

1 **Demodé** : out of fashion  
2 **Querida** : my dear or similar 


	16. Frost

When the Aurors crossed the belt of trees, they found a disturbing site. Her face tense with dread, a girl was screaming hysterically, A few feet further there was a young man, probably stunned, and on the other side a body of a twenty-seven years woman; bared, tortured, raped, sodomized. A newly appointed Auror couldn't help but retch, and the one who seemed to be in charge ordered with a broken voice, "Cover her, for God's sake!"  
A cloak was given to at least preserve the dignity of the corpse of Ellis Vector, Arithmancy teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the meantime, the girl had been taken away as the Aurors checked the conditions of the man, establishing that he was still alive, showing signs of a _Stupefy_ curse as well as some bruises and abrasions.  
"I don't remember much," he said. "As soon as the battle began, I did my best to rescue my students. Then, while I was in this area, I heard a cry. I came here and… I didn't care how many of them there were… I tried to stop them, but they were faster than me…  
"Is Ellis all right?"  
The Aurors exchanged a nervous glance before one of them helped him to get up and whispered, "Come with us, Professor Meridiæ."  
Tom let the Auror guide him, and a devilish grin briefly wrinkled his features when he caught a glimpse of the tumefied hand peeping out of the blue cloak on the blood stained snow.

Bill scanned the rows of students coming back to the castle and sharpened his sight as he searched the crowd of black cloaks for his sister. During the battle, he had overheard two Aurors saying that the Death Eaters were searching for someone. Immediately, the young teacher's thought went to Ginny. It was possible that the Dark Lord was still interested in her. After all, she was able to escape and she now she is in possession of information that could mark his end.  
Bill had looked for Ginny in every corner of the village, hoping that she was safe, while fearing that she was captured by the Death Eaters. When the attack was over, he had gone back to Hogwarts and stayed at the entrance, sure that sooner or later he would see Ginny or one of her Housemates. Like a shaft of sunlight, he glimpsed a head of hair that was bright blue like the afternoon sky. "Audrey!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Audrey, have you seen Ginny?"  
Audrey – who has sky blue hair - elbowed her way through the crowd, and when she was within call, she responded, "I haven't seen her since lunch time."  
Bill grabbed her arm and pulled her out of that crowd. "Are you sure?" he whispered, turning pale at her answer.  
"Ah, thank you, I felt like a packed sardine.  
"Anyway yes, Ginny was asked to lunch by that Zabini hottie - I don't remember where - with his sister and those two Ravenclaw second year girls who cling to them," she ended, taking a deep breath.  
Bill didn't know if he should feel worried or not; yet a shadow fluttered on his thoughts, the awful feeling it wasn't over for Ginny. Ginny must be protected, even if this mean he had to lock her up in a vault at Gringotts.

Ginny came back to the castle after the attack was over. Blaise had taken her, Melinda and his nieces as far as the entrance and he begged them to go at once in the Hospital Wing and to send an owl to reassure their families that they are safe. As soon as he heard of their arrival, Bill reached his sister, and interrogated her about where she was and what she was doing.  
"Virginia was my guest," said a vexed Blaise to Bill, "it was my duty to take care of her safety, just like for my sister and the twins. Or did you think that someone in my position wouldn't respect the guest's sacredness?"  
Piqued, Bill tightened his lip. He was grateful to the boy, since he had care of Ginny, but could he trust a Slytherin? Could there be something fishy going on behind so much kindness?

May and April were lying lazily on one of the Slytherin Common Room's sofas and were reading a fashion magazine. Their parents had warned them beforehand about the attack, and the two girls had came back to Hogwarts before the attack began. That was an atypical attack, organized in two days and scheduled for a Hogsmeade weekend. For two nights the young witches talked about it, and without knowing it, they have come to the same conclusion as the Charms teacher.  
Why did the Dark Lord prepare an attack that would endanger the Death Eaters' new generation? Because his target for new recruits is Hogwarts, all potential new Death Eaters are students, and the visit to Hogsmeade was the only occasion in which it was possible to approach a student. So, why speed things up? There had probably been a leak of information, and that means it would require stopping the source of the leaks as soon as possible. Why that bedlam? Because it was a good diversion. All these answers brought May and April's thoughts went to the only person who meets all requirements: Ginny Weasley. April smiled gloatingly, wondering if the plan had been successful and what that hateful Gryffindor was suffering now if she hadn't been yet killed.  
"Did you heard about who died today?" asked a masculine voice.  
May raised her eyes to her Housemate and replied apathetically, "Who, Thalass?"  
"That Mudblood, Professor Vector," he grinned. "It looks as if they had a bit of fun before killing her. Puah! With a Mudblood! If I were them I would've practice the _Cruciatus Curse_ and then…"  
"Sssh! That Zabini girl is here!"  
Silence, followed by the malevolent looks of the other Slytherin fell in the Common Room when Melinda, came in the room. The three seventh-years exchanged a glance of agreement and reached the third year.  
"Hi Zabini, had a nice Saturday?" Thalass said, seizing her cloak.  
Melinda glanced at the three older students and the other Housemates lined up on either side: she tightened her lips in an expression of mute superiority and tried to free the cloak.  
"Do you not answer?" pressed May, grabbing her chin between two fingers. "Do you know it is quite impolite? Right guys?"  
The others nodded and April said wickedly. "I knew it, after all she didn't have a father to beat her to teach her manners."  
Melinda fixed her eyes on April, as the laughter echoed in her ears. She sighed, knowing that it was completely a waste of breath to explain. With a sharp tug she freed her cloak from Thalass's hands and took refuge on the staircases. Hands grabbed her and threw her back.  
"Hey Mel, let's pay a visit to the latrine, it misses you…"

Ginny entered the Common Room, where a milky light penetrated the glasses crusted with ice. Winter had already arrived, covering the grounds with snow and crusting the lake with ice. It has been an unusual icy winter, of that intense cold that kills and burns without discriminations. It was akin to Tom's same coldness; the same insane and blind cold that had destroyed or ruined many lives  
Ginny thought again about Blaise and what they had talked about at lunch, wondering if the boy would have been able to free her from that unwanted bond, which bound her existence to Tom's life. In his letters, Blaise wrote that the decision of the Counsel -which Counsel? She was sure that the boy hasn't applied to the Ministry- would be been based strictly on facts and that even smallest detail could make a difference. Ginny didn't like that; it made her feel like an object -a doll- of which the ownership was contended.  
"Ginny, where have you been? We were so worried!" Audrey and Chantal exclaimed as soon as they saw Ginny.  
Ginny smiled sheepishly and sat on her own bed. "Sorry, I didn't meant to worry you two, but I stayed with Blaise the whole time. What about you? Are you both all right?"  
The two girls exchanged a glance, then the black girl ran a hand through her hair and said, "Well, we've got just a bruise here and there, but Asia had a narrow escape; she has three ribs to re-grow. I don't envy her. The worse of all, however, is Philip Phelps: the St. Mungo's coach has left half an hour ago."  
Ginny bit her lower lip, feeling guilty all of a sudden. If she haven't accepted his invitation, nothing would have happened to him. But why did Lord Voldemort organized this attack? If it was because of her, it wasn't unusual for a teacher gave detentions to a student.  
"… Who has lost more, it is Professor Meridiæ."  
"Pardon?" said Ginny, staring the two girls.   
Chantal sighed, and then she leaned her chin on her right hand and her elbow on the knee. "Professor Vector has been killed, she didn't deserve to come to such a bad end. I have heard that her corpse will be sent to St. Mungo's for an autopsy: it looked as if she hasn't been killed with a spell."  
Ginny widened her eyes: that was why! If the Dark Lord didn't have scruples about the slaughtering of innocents, killing Professor Vector was like going for a walk. Nevertheless, Ginny didn't understand what has urged Tom to kill Professor Vector. Sure, the Arithmancy teacher knew about what was going between them, but to Ginny it didn't seem enough to justify her homicide; a mere memory charm would have been enough.

Tom, with his hands behind his head, looked at the Hospital wing's ceiling: he didn't needed particular cares, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he stay at least a night in the Hospital Wing.  
"You look pleased," hissed Isabella, watching his cousin, with her hands in her jean pockets. The girl looked serious and cold as she stared at the wizard with anger, disgust, and contempt.  
Tom returned that sharp look for an instant before moving his eyes to the ceiling. "You know that I don't like to be looked at that way."  
"I am sorry, Thomas, but I've left my easy-going twin in the closet." The wizard was chilled at those words; Isabella never called him by his full name. "Did you really need to make such a mess?"  
"It's me who decide what I have to do and or not, not you. Moreover, memory charms are easy to break."  
Isabella raised her arms to the ceiling and rolled her eyes. She then put her hands on her hips, leaned forward towards her cousin and whispered quietly. "There are many kind of memory spells and not all of them are detectable! You wizards are so stubborn and unimaginative!"  
"Isabella…"  
"It needed only the right words and a snap; easy, fast and clean. But no, your Lordship loves to do things on a grand style, and as that great sadistic perverted and megalomaniac son of a bitch that you are, you have fun doing such shitty things! Because this is what you did: you care so much about your bloody cover that you have blinkers on and you aren't able to see how useful some things could be."  
"Isabella, stop it, somebody could hear you."  
"It would serve you right if someone heard me! What would you do, then? Would you raze the whole castle to the ground?! The aunts won't like it, To'. They have their reasons to give you carte blanche, even if they tell me nothing," ended the girl with a hint of disappointment.  
Tom sighed and closed his eyes. "How is Virginia?"  
"Without you being a pain in her ass? Decidedly better."

* * *

Three days after, Ellis Vector's corpse was escorted to Birmingham by a delegation of students, who represented the school at the funeral. Before the departure, the Headmaster exhorted the twenty young wizards and witches about their behavior among the Muggles, and Professor McGonagall transfigured their cloaks to wide coats and the pointed hats to warm berets.  
No one talked much and the trip proceeded slowly and monotonously. The only diversion was at midday, when the cart witch came offering hot foods and drinks, and later in the early afternoon it began to snow, snowflakes so large they looked like white snitches. They didn't arrive till the sky had already became dark. Waiting for them at the station was Doctor Vector and five Aurors, who would accompany the delegation to the city's magical inn. They dined reluctantly, weakened by the trip and the mourning. After dinner, some stayed in the inn's dinning room, talking tiredly as they sat by the fireplace. Others, instead, retired to their bedrooms and slipped between the blankets after a warm bath.  
The night was populated by nightmares about the attack, and about Professor Vector's tortured body. Morning found the teenagers not so keen to leave the beds' warmth, but an abundant breakfast helped them to get ready for the sad day.  
Tom sat gloomily, sipping his strong coffee and wondering why Professor Flitwick has chosen him as one of the representatives of the teaching staff. A slender and delicate hand squeezed his shoulder.  
"Are you alright, Thomas?"  
The wizard's eyes – made amber by the bad weather - met the gray eyes of the woman. "It depends on what you mean by _alright."_  
"You are hermetic, as usual."  
"Adhara," he replied, shaking his head, "how many times did I talk about the subjectivity of the concept of good and evil?"  
"What, are you drowning your sorrow in philosophy?"  
Tom hid a mocking sneer with the cup. The Astronomy teacher was a strange creature, if he didn't know that such kind of magical creatures had been banished from that Reality Level, he would have mistaken her for a Fae -rather, a half-Fae. The black velvet dress that Adhara had worn for her colleague and friend's funeral showed off the long-limbed slimness of her person and the almost cadaverous paleness of her face.  
"Have you prepared the funeral eulogy?"  
The woman nodded. "I have re-checked it before leaving my bedroom. We have to remember to warn the students that for the Muggles the official version of Ellis's death is a crash."  
"Do the Vectors think their daughter died… in a crash?"  
"They were the ones who insisted with the crash story," she whispered, pushing away her plate. "But it's comprehensible, Ellis has been killed in a way so… so…"  
Tom stared at his colleague, enjoying her horror and disgust -the same horror and disgust that had disfigured Ellis's face - but displaying his acting ability, he sighed painfully and encircled the woman's shoulders with his arm. "Come on, let's not think about it. It's almost half past nine, do you remember when the service will begin?"  
"At eleven o'clock, we have a couple of hours before the Ministry car will come to catch us," Adhara sobbed, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.  
Tom tightened his lips and finished his coffee and left. He silently climbed the staircase, thinking continuously about what had happened and what Isabella had told him. As if a divinity -it didn't mattered if pagan or Christian- wanted to play with him, Tom stopped atop the staircase, smiling mockingly and asymmetrically to the object of his passions.  
"Good morning, Miss Weasley, I thought you were an early person."  
Ginny tightened her lips and fists, looking back at him with hate and anger. "Let me pass." Her voice was cold and sharp  
Tom arched an eyebrow. "Is this the way to address your teacher?"  
"You have no right to be called a teacher."  
"I suppose that, once back to school, I will have to give you a detention."  
The slap was as violent as it was unexpected, and it echoed in their ears for long after. Tom brought a hand to the offended cheek, staring with fiery eyes at the girl's impassive face.  
"You, little impudent girl, I should…"  
"_You should_ what? Do you want to do to me what you did to Professor Vector?" she hissed, and spread her arms with defiance. "Here I am, I won't run away neither! Do whatever you want with me, Tom! At least after that you won't be able to torture me anymore."  
He looked at her, dismayed. Ginny said nothing, she merely held her prescribed blazer and glided between the wall and the man. Tom stayed there, with a swollen and slightly reddened cheek pulsating and with Ginny's words burning inside.

The funeral was slow and sad; during the eulogy, the Head Girl burst in a plentiful crying and she had to be replaced by a Ravenclaw prefect -House to which the dead witch had belonged to in her school days- who continued between choked sobs. The young witches and wizards stayed amongst themselves, seeking support and comfort in each other. The five Slytherins' indifference and the presumptuousness were easily taken for an enviable self-control. Much to his annoyance, Tom was the Vectors' object of attention. After all, he had embarked on a love affair with the dead witch – an affair that didn't have the chance to grow in something else- and he had also been there when Ellis was killed. Tom quivered with the wish to see the reaction of the couple if they knew the truth about their daughter's death, but he held himself back, well aware of the damages that such vanity would cause. Often he found himself peering at Ginny, and he wondered what she would have done in his place. Would she have left things follow their course? No, Ginny was not the kind of girl. Would she have looked for help? Maybe. Or maybe she would have acted in another way that he didn't even know.

* * *

Winter was so harsh that stalactites of ice adorned the cornices and the eaves of the castle, and the mantle of snow was so thick that it was almost impossible going through the gardens. And this gave an even more ghostly aura to the Forbidden Forest. Ginny and her study mates were in the library, up to their neck in the '68's Goblins rebellion and the Unforgivable Curses theory: The young witch pushed away her quill tiredly, and sighed as she leaned back in her seat.  
"Tired?" Luna asked with her usual diaphanous voice.  
"They give us too much homework," Colin grumbled, doing the same as his Housemate. "I wonder if we'll survive till the N.E.W.T.s or if we'll die before from homework overdose."  
The others smiled and somebody took out a pack of chocolate biscuits.  
"Let's take a more than deserved break, just let Madam Pince not catch us."  
They drew closer to the table, hiding the forbidden object with piles of books. Nibbling a biscuit, Ginny went over her essay about the _Cruciatus Curse_ and in her mind echoed Tom's explanations of the spell's theory - the will and the intention to cause pain to someone, and the sadistic wish to make suffer. Suddenly the images of that horrible party for Tom's return played again in her head: only a sick mind could find torture amusing, just like only a sick mind could organize a slaughter to get rid of someone who knew too much.  
_But he did it also for you,_ hissed a voice in her mind. Ginny tightened her lips in a grimace of dissent. Professor Vector could have freed her from that unwanted bond, or at least that could have given her the hope of liberty. Then why was she… glad about her death? Was it because she can now have Tom all to herself without… no, she wasn't jealous of Tom, let alone in love or any other sugary romantic nonsense. It was only because Tom had saved her life twice -the first time at Easter when she poisoned herself and the second time in autumn, when she jumped out of the Astronomy Tower. That was a debt, a bond -another bond- that tied her to that man. A bond that could be broken merely paying her debt with the same coin. A bitter smile curled the corners of her mouth, as she imagined the next duel between Harry and the Dark Lord, and with her shielding the latter and paying part of her debt.  
She didn't know why, but deep inside she knew that it wasn't only a matter of debts and credits. If she tried to imagine her future life at the side of somebody, the features of her imagined partner would change into Tom's image, as if to mean that she would be happy with nobody else. Happiness with Tom? At the most only a good imitation of happiness. Something squeezed her insides, which made her feel as if Tom's skin was on her own, his possessive but delicate touch, and his kisses, feverish and filled with passion. And she desired that skin on skin, that touch, and those kisses with all her soul and with everything that was instinctive and irrational inside her.  
She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. It was wrong, she couldn't and wouldn't feel those feelings, that medley of desire and tension for someone who killed as easily as he breathed, for a sadistic megalomaniac who did nothing but destroy families like Harry's and Neville's.  
"If Irma catches you, you'll be banned from the Library," teased a virile voice behind them. They turned and tried to hide the biscuits, but Bill grabbed a handful and slipped one in his mouth. "Well, penalty paid."  
"But Bill, you've taken almost all of them!" Ginny exclaimed.  
Bill grinned and ruffled his sister's hair. "It is a penalty, after all."  
"Professor, what are you doing with the school's Annals?" asked Luna, noticing the books under the young teacher's arm.  
Bill bit his lips and smiled nervously. "Er… nothing, just a bit of research." He said goodbye and left, followed by Ginny's suspicious eyes.

* * *

"… You will deliver the essay about werewolves next week. The lesson is over," Tom ended his lecture as the bell rang that signaled the end of class.  
The fourth years put their belongings pack in their backpacks and said goodbye to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The wizard leaned against the desk's edge, and he took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. It hadn't be an easy week, with Ellis' funeral and the Teaching Board, which had been about to cancel the Yule Ball, but the student's representatives made a real fuss about it and the Teaching Board backed down. And then, how could he ignore those tumults of feeling inside him? Even Ginny was in that same situation, he sensed her mixed desire and irrationality throb in the back of his mind. It wasn't like this with Harry – where the Dark Lord felt a perverse pleasure spying his enemy's thoughts, and to send him dreams merely to further complicate his life. He did not know the girl's thoughts and emotions, and couldn't wander into her subconscious like Tom Riddle's memory used to do, but he was able to sense her feelings for him and when she thought about him, it felt like a light breeze blowing on his nape. He smiled bitterly, then turned around the desk, collecting his notes. He glimpsed the outline of a bird -a white and black magpie- on the windowsill. He hissed something and opened the shutters. "Don't stay outside, Bella, I need you in perfect health."  
With a flutter of wings, the bird transformed into the young Death Eater' figure: Bellatrix bowed deeply and kissed the edge of Tom's cloak. "My Lord, I don't know if my news are good or not."  
"Do not waste my time with useless formality."  
"I have heard that Lucius and his entourage are preparing something to get in your good graces. I still don't know what they have in mind, but I don't approve of private initiatives."  
"Until our cause is the reason behind their actions and not a front, private initiatives are welcome. But I never liked the Malfoys: keep an eye on them and keep me informed. And confirm my presence at tomorrow's meeting."  
"As you wish, my Lord."  
And with a flutter of wings, Bellatrix Lestrange flew away.

After what had happened to Philip Phelps, Isabella got the idea into her head to find a decent Yule ball partner for Ginny. She didn't exposed her plan, because she knew that Ginny wouldn't have approved, much less consented. Putting those two blockheads in a situation in which either of them could have declined was the only solution for them to admit their feelings. It just needed a bit of patience.  
"When will you tell us your plan?" Asia winked mischievously.  
The brunette sipped her pumpkin juice and grinned. "Sorry, but you'll know when it's time."  
"If it's who I think it is," Ginny hissed menacing, "get it out of your head! If you really insist that I go to the Yule Ball, Bill…"  
"He's your brother! And anyways, he'll go to the ball with his wife!" Chantal exclaimed.  
Audrey nodded and she leaned toward the redhead. "Supposing that your sister-in-law won't come -after all she's going through a bad patch- everybody will think you were so desperate that your brother, moved to pity, had agreed to take you to the ball."  
"Exactly, you would be the shame of the whole House," ended Isabella, gulping down the last sips of her drink.  
Ginny sighed in defeat, leaning her chin on her right hand palm. It wasn't that her friends' attitude annoyed her, only at times she wanted them to not intrude into her life. Lost in her thought, her eyes wandered in the Great Hall to linger on the staff table. Bill was talking with the Headmaster, moving his hands around as if to explain something, while Professor Flitwick seemed absorbed, concentrating on what his young colleague was telling him, as he nodded thoughtfully. Professor McGonagall intervened in the conversation, probably to present her point of view. Tom seemed to be ignoring that conversation, as he was enjoying his roast beef and potatoes. He was thoughtful though, as if he feared something's arrival.  
The dinner ended shortly after, and the Headmaster, the Transfiguration and Charms teachers – still involved in their conversation- left the Great Hall with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Isabella grabbed Ginny's wrist and beckoned the others to follow her. The hallway was packed with students of every House, but with relative easiness the young witch reached the group of teachers.  
"Oh, To'!" she exclaimed in tears, clinging to her cousin's jacket.  
Tom stopped, and an annoyed expression was on his face. "Isabella, whatever you are about to ask me, the answer is no."  
"But To'…"  
"No."  
"Come on Thomas," the Headmaster laughed kindly, "let's hear what she has to say."  
Tom rolled his eyes and raised his arms. "Ok, I'll listen! But remember that my answer is no."  
Isabella looked at her cousin with watery eyes and sniffed. "Phelps is at St Mungo's and now Gin has no one to go to the ball with!"  
"So what? It's not my business."  
"Can you ask Gin to the Ball?"  
"What?!" exclaimed Tom and Ginny in unison, both looking nervously at the other.  
Bill and Professor Flitwick exchanged an amused glance, while Professor McGonagall shook her head.  
Ginny placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder and smiled nervously. "Isa, I… er… appreciate your concern, but don't worry. It isn't the end of the world if I don't go to the ball. And also, your cousin is one of our teachers."  
"I agree with you, Miss Weasley. This is an absurd request, Isabella."  
"Then you don't love me!" Isabella whimpered, hiding her face in her hands.  
Tom stared at his cousin, a vein throbbing on his temple as he mentally cursed that play in the hallway. "Have some dignity, Isabella, and stop with this farce."  
The girl snorted and folded her arms, meeting her cousin's glance with dry eyes. "So, will you do it?"  
"No."  
"Pleasepleasepleaseplease!"  
"No."  
"C'mon To', do it for me."  
"No."  
"I beg you…" Isabella grabbed the collar of Tom's jacket and looked at him with puppy eyes.  
Tom looked back at her coldly. "My answer won't change."  
Isabella looked at him angrily, then with extreme care she loosened her tie's knot, unbuttoned the first three buttons of her shirt and slipped a hand in her bra. She he stared at her cousin with a devilish expression and a sardonic smile.  
"To', you know what I have here." Tom arched an eyebrow, glaring at her with an air of superiority. "A couple of copies of You-Know-What will be enough to ruin your reputation forever. But you _want_ to ask Gin, aren't you?"  
The wizard glanced at his colleagues, but did not find any support or help, as the three teachers looked curiously from the young witch to Tom, wondering what they were talking about. Ginny, who had understood what Isabella was talking about, was doing her best to not laugh. Tom looked at Isabella even more coldly. "No."  
"You asked for it!!" And with a quick movement of wrist, Isabella threw out some leaflets, on which was printed the photo of a baby, and tossed them up.  
Tom tsked and took his wand, casting an _Incendio_ on the leaflets, but to his horror, they didn't burn. Instead, each piece of parchment that was hit by the spell turned into ten more parchments.  
"I'm not that dumb, To'," grinned Isabella wickedly.  
Tom glared at her fiercely, and then he tried to get rid of the leaflets with other charms. "Made them vanish, **now**!"  
Isabella grinned, clicking her tongue against her teeth and waving her forefinger. "You haven't said the magic word…"  
The wizard tightened his lips, livid with rage. "Please," he growled unwillingly.  
"_Beep_! Wrong answer!" snickered the Gryffindor girl.  
Tom couldn't give in to her absurd request, it was a matter of principle! And what about his own pride? If only he could give her what she deserved without blowing up his cover… Tom snorted and turned on his heels, firm to not give in to Isabella, and it was then that the almost-irremediable happened: one of the leaflets came, no one knows how, to the hands of Professor McGonagall, who after the initial surprise, was trying her best to not laugh.  
"All right, I'll do what you want! I'll take your friend to the ball, as long as those things disappear!" he spoke up, flushed with anger.  
With a snap of fingers, the leaflets were transformed into moths. Isabella grinned and patted his head. "Good boy."  
Then, the witch took Ginny and with her Housemates, went to Gryffindor Tower.  
Tom huffed, then he stared grimly at Professor McGonagall's amused expression and he hissed menacingly. "One word about that, Minerva, and I will let Isabella find out your most embarrassing secret…"


	17. Poinsettia

**AN: **I'm sorry if this chapter took so long, but certain things in my real life are, slowly but surely, becoming more important than writing fan fiction. I won't get into the details here, in respect of you, my dear readers who are still following this story: I won't take you longer than needed, enjoy the chapter, say a thank you to my beta, Kelly, and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Rose

* * *

**.: XVII :.**  
**_Poinsettia_**

"… You won't get out of here until you give me an explanation!"  
"Really Tom, instead of complaining, you should thank me. I have offered you something that you would never have gotten on your own."  
"The aunts asked you to do this, didn't they?" Tom hissed.  
Isabella raised her eyes from her nonchalant examination of her fingernails to stare at her cousin. Then she snorted and shrugged her shoulders. "You know better than me that they spend their days high on thuja and sage and that they don't care about what we do."  
"Unless we interfere with their plans, that is. Isabellina, if the Aunts have any interest in this story…"  
"For the record, the Aunts don't tell me their damn business. If they are interested in your romantic life, I don't know and I don't want to know!" Isabella exclaimed, staring into Tom's eyes.  
They had met in a hallway like ten minutes ago and before Isabella could say or do something, Tom had dragged her in an empty classroom and asked her to explain about the previous day's request. Isabella insisted that since Philip Phelps had gone to St Mungos because of the Death Eaters' attack, he now has the duty to get a new Yule Ball partner for Ginny. Tom wasn't able to seek out the truth. And what was worse was that every time he had used _Legilimency_ on Isabella, he was faced with horridly cute and cuddly pink and baby blue bears singing children's songs in a Technicolor landscape, complete with rainbows and a smiling sun. It simply made him physically sick.  
"So, will you open that damn door and let me go?" asked Isabella cheekily.   
Tom lowered his eyes, disappointed and angry, and hissed the counter spell. Isabella snorted, and walked away triumphantly. She had a close shave, lying to Tom was just as hard as keeping her mind focused on some episode of Care Bears –she knew they gave Tom a big headache and served as a good defence against _Legilimency_- but everything would be fine if she kept things quick. She slipped into a bathroom and with a big sigh she leaned against the door. Her assignment had just began, and the Aunts had given her too many things to do. After she rinsed her face and hands, Isabella headed for the Library, hoping to find an interesting book to read.  
"Good afternoon Isabella, is everything all right?"  
The young witch located the source of the voice and grinned. "Good afternoon Professor Weasley. Still busy with that research about Annals?"  
Bill smiled nervous, scratching his nape; then he beckoned the student to sit down. "Er… yes, I still have a lot to do. You don't look well, everything alright?"  
She shrugged her shoulders. "That stupid To' is still angry about what I asked him yesterday. It isn't serious, I have done worse things to him."  
"Really?" the teacher laughed. "Knowing what you have done with the twins this summer at the Burrow, I can't blame him."  
"By the by, how is Fred and George's business doing?"  
"Let's say it's going well." Bill looked at the girl as she smiled and nodded; he then closed his book and leaned toward her. "Isabella, do you mind if I ask you some… er… private questions?"

* * *

Asia tightened her lips in a grimace of disapproval, and then shook her head. "I'm forry, but I can't do more that that: I could tranffigure it but it fouldn't laft much."  
"It's ok, Asia, after all I'll go down just for a bit and a couple of waltzes," replied Ginny.  
"You fhould be more enthufiaftic; after all you're go to the Yule Ball with one of our hotteft teacherf."  
Ginny shrugged her shoulders, smoothing the faded blue fabric of her dress robe: the ribbons had disappeared, just like the puff sleeves, which had been remade into a simpler design and ending at her elbows. With the remaining cloth, her dorm mate had sewn a choker with an abstract flower as a design. Asia rearranged her glasses on the bridge of her nose and sat on the bed with her sewing basket and the cloth for her own dress robe. "Fhy don't you fear the dreff robe you fore at your brother'f fedding?"  
"It's a summer dress and it's also a bit… too much for my tastes."  
"Fhat about a nef one?"  
"There are no Hogsmeade Saturday before Christmas, in addition how would I pay it?"  
"Afk it af a Chriftmaf's gift to your brother."  
"And take the risk to go to the Yule Ball with a dress robe chosen by Fleur? I don't deny that she has good taste, but they are a little bit too… sophisticated for me. Can you see me me in silk dress with a deep neckline and a slit on the side?" mumbled Ginny, putting on her uniform.  
Asia grinned, without raising her eyes from her needlework. "You hafe a nife body."  
Ginny pursed her lips, sprawling on her bed. "Where are the other girls?" she asked, feeling the urge to change topic.  
"Audrey and Fhantal fhould be bickering fomewhere and Ifa haf faid that today fhe had a miffion: fhe fantf to find out fomebody'f fecret."  
"I don't envy him or her: Isa can be terrible."  
"By the fay, fhat fas printed on those leafletf? Professor Meridiæ waf so angry and you fere almoft laughing like mad." Asia grinned, raising her eyes to the other girl. Ginny widened her eyes and placed a hand on her mouth. "A-ah! Fo you do know!"  
"A-Asia…" stammered Ginny, not sure if s she should blush or turn pale.  
As if entering right on cue, the door swung wide open and Chantal and Audrey entered, giggling. Asia arched an eyebrow, sensing a juicy gossip. "Fhat happened?"  
The two girls looked at each other and burst out laughing again. Audrey then sat on the floor, near the heater and she said, "Did you know that July Babbit's parents has been called?"  
Asia widened her eyes. "Are you joking?"  
Chantal shook her head. "We saw them with our own eyes," she said, grinning. "As if that wasn't enough, Ginny's relative, Mafalda Prewet, said aloud that Babbit has been taken ill by Lowgradeitis!"  
"They'll force her to leave Hogwarts," Audrey sniggered. "Everybody knows that if you don't pass your O.W.Ls after two tries, you won't have a third chance."  
"Ferfef her right, fhe fon't graduate and fill come off her high horfe!" nodded Asia with satisfaction. "It'f a shame that thofe Jeager girls don't't go away af well"  
Chantal rolled her eyes, but just when she was about to reply, the door opened. As quick as a thunderbolt, Isabella ran across the room and slipped in the bathroom and turned on the shower.  
"Hof goes the mission, Ifa?" A laughing Asia asked.  
Isabella answered after some several moments of silence. "It depends on whose point of view."  
"Whom had you taken revenge on now?" asked Audrey curiously.  
"Severus Snape."  
At that name, the four girls threw themselves into the bathroom. Under the shower, Isabella rubbed her skin with energy, as if she wanted to peel it away, and on her face was painted an expression of pure disgust.  
Puzzled, Chantal whispered. "What happened?"  
"I snuck into that kind of Alan Rickman's double's private chambers, hoping to find some proofs of a secret of his, but I couldn't find anything incriminating. I was still searching in his personal laboratory when the greasy git arrived. At that point I had to improvise: I told that I had a crush on him… that I found his large nose quite fascinating… and that his greasy hair had a certain…indescribable appeal and it looked shiny and silky and… and I can feel still his grease on me…"  
The girls all had a general feeling of disgust and a choir of _bleah!_ echoed in the bathroom. Getting over the disgust, Ginny approached Isabella, who was now gargling with disinfectant. "What did you mean by _I didn'tt found anything shameful_?" she whispered, looking puzzled. "I have seen a teddy bear in his private living room!"  
Isabella rinsed her mouth and stared at Ginny with a serious and dignified expression. "I know that he has a teddy bear in his living room, but it would have been mean and dishonourable to use his grief to blackmail him, and those who are dead can't be touched. If you care so much, why don't you ask To' to tell you the tale one of these days?" With these finals words, the young witch got out of the bathroom, and she didn't see Ginny's look of surprise.

* * *

At Christmas morning the sun rose unusually bright over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Sorcery. The castle's highest pinnacles and arches were crusted with ice, and glimmered like diamonds, and an oddly intense blue sky seemed to cheer the birth of the Saviour. As soon as they woke up, the students opened their Christmas gifts. Ginny had to suppressed a laughter when she saw that Isabella had also received a Weasley sweater, but shook her head when she saw her own. She had also gotten a sweater of her favourite Quidditch player from both Ron and Harry – as she knew that her brother couldn't afford something so expensive, a silver filigree hair clip from Blaise and Melinda, a book of Mediwitchery from Bill and Fleur, a selection of Fred and George's jokes, and from Percy and Penelope she received the latest novel of L.T. O'Ryan's, one of her favourite writers.  
"Who sent that one?" asked Chantal, eyeing a big parcel near Ginny's bed.  
Ginny arched an eyebrow and picked up the parcel and placed it on the bed. There was no card attached, only expensive cream coloured wrapping and a green and silver ribbon with three red poinsettias on the bow. Biting her lower lip, the witch untied the bow, opening the wrapping paper and opened the box.  
Audrey glanced at the content and whistled, grabbing the note. "_Merry Christmas_," she read aloud. "There is no signature."  
Ginny tore the note from Audrey's hands, her face as red as her hair.  
Chantal encircled an arm around her dorm mate's shoulders and winked maliciously. "Aw… someone has a secret admirer! It's oh, so romantic!"  
"A _rich_ fecret admirer, you fhould fay!" Asia exclaimed ecstatically, pulling the dress out of the box. It was a cream-colored silk dress robe with flowers embroidered on the neckline. "Try it, let'f fee hof you look fith it!"  
"That would be a waste of time, and I don't even like it," Ginny whispered gloomily. She knew Tom has sent her that dress robe; he wasn't the kind of man who would go to a ball with a girl who was wearing an old mended dress. She knew that that evening he wants to show her off, the china doll he had shaped from his own desires. Ginny knew she wouldn't have been able to do anything but behave like the Virginia that was forged for the Dark Lord. From a certain point of view, it could be a good thing: the Slytherins would have a fit, seeing her with that elegant dress, a charming man like Tom and acting like a high society girl. She met Isabella's eyes, who looked away immediately. Ginny got up and cleared her throat. "Let's go before the others eat all the breakfast."

* * *

In the castle's music hall the sound of a pipe articulated into a melody. The effect was a bit conflicting, the clear and solid sounds of a Baroque theme clashing against the grandiose and forbidding Gothic vaults and stained glass windows in the room. With the thin reed between his tight lips, his cheeks slightly deformed and his eyes lowered, Tom played for himself and the solitude around him. Since he had first learned to move his fingers on a flute, music was something that made him feel less lonely and… even loved, in a way. It was as if the sound of the flute was able to evoke his mother's spirit and wrap him up in the ghost of an embrace.  
An image took shape in his mind: the sacristy of an old church, with a poorly decorated Christmas tree as the only sign of Jesus Child's birth. A table was laden with mince pies and ginger breads as dozens of children looked longingly at the food, while old Junoesque ladies wrapped in warm furs wandered around the room passing out toys. Alone and isolated as always, Tom watched those shadows in his head. After so many years, he had forgotten the faces from his childhood as they swirled around him: It was a surprise when one of the Charity ladies appeared before him and presented him with a precious casket of inlaid wood. What was even more amazing were the words that accompanied the gift.  
"It belonged to your mother, take care of it." He had stared at the sweet, sad face of the lady, whom had caressed his jet-black curls with her arthritic fingers. "If only I could…"  
With a too short note that ended the piece suddenly, Tom closed the eyes and leaned his head against a pillar. Only few years later, he had found out that that lady was his maternal grandmother, Donna Agata Trao, and that she had meant to say: _if only I could adopt you, if only I could take you with me_. He knew why that memory surfaced tonight, just like the one about Lord Meridiæ's funeral and the following meetings with the remainder of his family: Christmas always filled his thoughts with thousand of _what if's_.   
What if the Meridiæs have contacted him before his grandfather's death? What if they have adopted him, like his grandmother had always wished? What if his mother did not die? What if the man that biology indicated as his father had simply accepted the magical nature of his wife? What if Herentas Maria Lucia Meridiæ and Thomas Riddle had never met?  
Tom smiled bitterly, mocking himself: perhaps it would have been better that way and his mother would have had the possibility to live her life, full of roses and love, and she would have died only when her hair had turned to the colour of snow and her face marked by time. But he couldn't go back and remake history like he wanted.  
_"They-Who-Should-Not-Have-Been-Born also has their role in this world."_  
The Aunts' voices, all sounding like one, echoed in his ears. If his task is to purge the world of the Muggle filth, why didn't the Confraternity take his side? Is his destiny truly a different one? He shook his head and put the pipe back in its case. It was time to get ready for the Yule Ball.

Ginny stared at her own reflection, the dress rode wrapped her like a second skin and her curls fell like a cascade of red hot lava on her back and cleavage. Over her shoulders she watched the other girls run back and forth as they frantically searched for a missing shoe or earring, or fought desperately with their dresses' buttons. With a sigh, Ginny went back to staring into her own eyes as she took some hairpins. She picked up the curls behind her head, and repeated a ritual taught by Bianca that was believed to be forgotten  
"Do you need help?"  
"No thanks, Asia, I am almost finished," Ginny answered, dusting her cheeks with a bit of blush.  
A bit of perfume and she was ready. Looking in the mirror, Ginny not only felt , but she also looked like one of those rare and precious dolls of fine china that watched the world from the showcase of an antiquary.  
"Are we all ready?" Audrey winked, smiling. "For Merlin's beard! Ginny, you are gorgeous!"  
"Eh-e, the Snakes will eat their hearts out, I can just see their faces!" added Chantal.  
"C'mon, it's late," said Isabella, pushing her roommates toward the door. "Ah, Gin, my cousin asked me to tell you that he wants a word with you in your brother's office."  
Ginny nodded and sighed. She had no way out. And even if she didn't know why Tom wanted to meet her in Bill's office, she knew would have been forced to behave how Tom wanted, like a puppet moved by a skilled puppeteer, whether she liked it or not. It was as if she was in the mist, and there was something around her that muffled every sound and every noise. She answered to her friends as a force of habit, and only from a force of habit did she reached the Charm teacher's office.  
"Come in, Ginny," said Bill's voice.  
Ginny bit her lip, her knuckles a few inches from the oak door, and she took a deep breath and entered. Tom, Bill and Fleur were standing near the fireplace and they stopped mid conversation when Ginny entered into the room. Her sister-in-law smiled sadly at her, her fingers clasped over the fabric of her dress robe. Unlike four years before, Fleur's clothes were more sober and - Ginny had to admit with a bit of envy - that Fleur looked gorgeous even in a mourning dress. Ginny knew that Fleur was thinking about how this would have been Cyrille's first Christmas. All thoughts of Cyrille fled her mind when Ginny felt Tom's eyes on her.  
Tom didn't turn to look at her until he heard the door close. Ginny looked stunning this evening,. And he felt something at the pit of his stomach, something that he knew too well. He felt his hands itch, as if they had life of their own, and desired to run it through that fiery hair.  
"Thomas_2_, I owe you a cup of tea," said Fleur with a tone that was supposed to be cheerful but really wasn't. She stopped in front of Ginny and kissed her cheeks. "You look gorgeous, you look like… somebody else."  
"You know, Ginny, those two made a bet." Bill explained as he circled his wife's shoulders with his arms.  
"Really?" asked Ginny, upset by the thought of her brother and sister-in-law's familiarity with Tom. _If only they knew the truth…_  
"When I heard that you didn't have a proper dress robe for the ball," Tom began, "I took the liberty to remedy. Well, I admit I wasn't moved by altruistic reasons, but mere selfishness and the wish to preserve my own good image. So I asked for your sister-in-law's advice."  
"W'ic', at ze end, was only for ze size," Fleur spoke up at that point . "I took a fancy for a chiffon Dolce & Babbana dress robe, it was a nice s'ade of rose zat that would look _magnifique_ on you, but Thomas zoug't it was a bit… too revealing."  
"Madame, you sister-in-law is a student," Tom reprimanded her lightly, "and this is a school ball. Propriety forced me to oppose you."  
Ginny tightened her lips, she liked this situation less and less. "Er… I'm sorry, but did you call me here just to tell me about this bet?" she asked impatiently.  
They said nothing for a moment , and then Tom nodded. "First of all, I wanted to apologize for Isabellina's behaviour. That girl is… wild. Secondly, your brother and I both think it would be proper to talk about how to manage this situation .  
"We think it would be more proper if the four of us arrived together in the Great Hall, as if I had met you by chance in the hallway. Moreover, it would be better if you sit with your relatives instead of me," Tom explained with his seemingly formal tone, which Ginny knew was meant as to be an order.  
Bill then gave additional instructions to his sister, reminding her that even if the Headmaster thought Isabella's request was funny, the fact remains that a student is going to a school ball with a teacher, and it was a delicate situation and prone to scandal. Ginny felt relieved, and she replied that she just wanted to make an appearance at the Yule Ball and go to sleep right after dinner. With the arrangements all settled, they left the office.  
"You forgot something, Miss Weasley," said Tom while Bill and Fleur walked in front of them towards the Great Hall. He reached her, grazing her shoulder as he stopped behind her. He looked at her naked back and the ribbons that held her dress as he removed something between the folds of his cloak.  
Ginny felt something cold around her neck and looked at their their reflection in a window to see Tom putting a necklace on her. The necklace, with threads of pearls and diamonds holding a emerald that was as large as a plum, was the same necklace that Tom's mother's wore in the portrait. "But this…"  
"It is a loan for tonight, don't worry. This is a too much precious heirloom to be given away so easily. My mother received the Baretek as a gift from a Muggle, a Maltese sailor whom her uncle met during the Great War."  
"_Baretek_?"  
"What? Have you never learned about magical stones?" he asked in surprise as Ginny shook her head. "Then I would forget about the Baretek's powers. Tonight it's only a beautiful stone to adorn the neck of a beautiful woman. I hope you will act properly, Virginia," he added with a whisper.  
"I know," she grumbled gripping the skirt's fabric. Tom looked at their image reflected in the windowpane for a long time; then he let Ginny catch up to Bill and Fleur, who were waiting for them a bit ahead.

For days, it had been the favourite gossip topic of everyone at Hogwarts. From the House Elves to the ghosts, everyone talked about how Isabella had forced her cousin, Professor Meridiæ, to ask Ginny Weasley to the ball. When Isabella had told Tom to ask Ginny to the Yule Ball, at least a quarter of the students, Headmaster Flitwick, Professor Weasley and Professor McGonagall were present. With so many eye witnesses to confirm the event, gossipers found it was almost a pity that those were, indeed the facts.  
"She may come with Professor Meridiæ," May Jeager said wickedly, "but she is so sloppy: I bet that she will wear one of her mother's old dresses. Poor professor, if I were him I would hide my head in a paper bag."  
Her sister nodded, fanning herself with a peacock feathers fan.  
"Look there, that Gryffinfool has come! Now we will have fun!" whispered one of their friends.  
May and April threw a triumphant glance towards the Great Hall's door, only to become green with anger and envy at what they saw: Ginny did not look like Ginny. They had no idea of where she had found that dress robe, but they envied how the dress wrapped Ginny's body, exalting every her curve. And despite the bare shoulders, the dress still gave her a chaste air with sleeves that went down to her knuckles. The motif of flowers adorning the straight neckline and the bottom of the skirt -where it took on the semblance of a stylised meadow full of flowers - brightened the cream silk. Along with Ginny's light makeup, and her hair styled in a simple bun but with two fiery locks to frame her face, it was as if the sophisticated attitude of Professor Meridiæ influenced her.  
Ginny's eyes wandered around Great Hall as everybody looked at her with curiosity and interest. She bit her lower lip, very tempted to leave. But then she had an epiphany: she was with the Dark Lord, before the presences of future Death Eaters. **She** is his doll, his lover, and she held a position that every Slytherin girl would kill to obtain, so why should she feel intimidated? Though she was forced to be Tom's partner, she decided that she will make the best of it: make the best of being his partner for the Ball. She cleared her face of every expression, and curving her lips into an enigmatic smile, as Bianca had taught her; she walked into the Great Hall with a light and firm step and her head held high.  
"We have made our triumphant entrance," Tom hissed. "Isabella has to be satisfied with this."  
"Do you really think she would be so easily satisfied, professor?" Ginny replied , arching an eyebrow. "I do hope this will be enough…"  
"Then I will see you later, Miss Weasley. I have to talk my with my colleagues, things that can't graze the delicate ears of a last year student."  
Ginny rolled her eyes, but she was happy to part from him so early. Without wasting any time, she looked for her friends. She found them at a table with their partners, minus Isabella and Audrey.  
"What are you doing here alone? You should be with that nice piece of meat Professor Meridiæ!"  
"I would have you know, dear Chantal, that he told me to stay away from him," Ginny replied, drawing a chair from the nearby table and sitting down.  
Audrey grinned as she leaned forwards the other girls. "Did you see those vipers' faces when Ginny and Professor Meridiæ arrived?"  
"No one missed it! They looked as if they gulped down a whole cauldron of bad potion."  
"Well, let them eat their hearts out!" Asia winked.  
"Stop it, please. If it hasn't been for this unknown girl sitting near me, I would be in our Common Room before the fireplace reading a book," grumbled Ginny.  
Isabella shot her an annoyed look and she retorted. "Hey, I only forced To' to ask you, you were free to accept or decline!"  
"Isabella, why didn't you tell me that before?!"  
"Damn Gin, even a child would have understood that! Sometimes you are quite dense! Well, bye bye girls, I must bring Gin back to that idiot of a cousin," ended Isabella, grabbing Ginny's wrist and dragging her away.  
Ginny almost stumbled in order to keep up to the other girl's quick paces and she wondered what she and Tom would have to do in order to satisfy Isabella. She shook her head and sighed. She didn't care what Isabella is doing afterward, but she is going to sleep before ten o'clock. They found Tom sitting at a table with the Headmaster and other colleagues, deep in conversation about N.E.W.T.s.Isabella coughed loudly, attracting the teachers' attention and staring at her cousin with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't anyone tell you that isn't polite to dump your partner?"  
"Isabella, what are you wearing?!" Tom hissed, glancing his cousin's jeans and deep blue pullover.  
The girl rolled her eyes and lifted her arms to stop his tirade. "I am not here to hear your outdated opinions about fashion! Why did you leave Gin alone? You boast of your chivalry and at the first occasion you prove to be a great oaf!"  
"I would like you to notice that I am a teacher and that my colleagues and I are discussing topics that a…"  
"Who cares! I would like _you_ to notice that if you don't behave well I will add _that thing_ to the decorations!" Isabella menaced.  
"Then I am going back to the Common Room," announced Ginny. "Since I'm the only one who can choose…"  
"Oh no, you stay here with this idiot. I admit that he isn't very nice company –well, it's a matter of speech- but you have agreed to come with him," said the brunette, forcing her housemate on a chair.  
Tom and Ginny exchanged a long suffering glance and asked in unison. "Will you tell us what do you want from us?!"  
Isabella opened her mouth, but she changed her mind and instead scrutinized the faces of the teachers, she then smiled maliciously. "Well, it's better if I shut up. Have fun!" She smiled waving her hand and leaving, followed by the grim looks of Tom and Ginny.  
Ginny sighed and read the menu merely to occupy her time. She felt uneasy sitting near Tom when she was among her teachers, and under Professor Snape's look. She ate with little enthusiasm, watching the envy the other students instead.

May was furious as she narrowed her eyes. She sank her fingernails into her partner's shoulder and disregarded the pain she that was inflicting on him. All she cared about was Ginny and about what she was doing. As soon as the music began, the Slytherin had forced her partner to the centre of the Great Hall. For the first waltz, she had watched Ginny as she sat at the table with only the company of the Ancient Runes teacher while Professor Meridiæ danced with Professor Sinistra. But when the second dance began, Professor Meridiæ left his colleague, and went back to where Ginny was sitting. After a quick exchange of words, he had taken her hand and they begun to dance at the edge of the Great Hall. Initially, May and her twin sister had smiled triumphantly, thinking that the Gryffindor will reduce the teacher's feet to two pancakes.  
In spite of them, Ginny was not only a competent dancer, but she also got along well with Professor Meridiae. With the music, it was as if no one else existed for them in the world. May felt a mixture of anger and envy eat at her heart out and also a strange pang in her stomach, similar to having an ulcer. Despite the rumors about Ginny and the inevitable, but mysterious hex that fell on every boy who attempted to date her, she was still a rather popular girl, and her popularity increased thanks to her miraculous escape from the Death Eaters. May wondered how she had managed to escape from the Dark Lord. Were there traitors among the followers of Lord Voldemort? Traitors who warned Ginny about the attach, and then helped her to escape, maybe? May and her sister had to investigate, to find out Ginny's source of such _luck_ and then warn their parents. With that thought, an asymmetrical smile curled her lipstick-covered lips, as she watched Ginny walked out of the Great Hall.

Ginny embraced herself, blaming herself for not even having a shawl with her. Even though her dress robe had very long sleeves, it still left her shoulders and back at the mercy of the cold, and silk wasn't the warmest fabric. Nevertheless, she remained outside watching the snowflakes dance slightly, creating small whirls when a thread of north wind blew. Unlike the four Christmases before, the teachers hadn't created a grotto illuminated by fairies, ornate statues, and rosebushes. Instead, they had decorated the portico with poinsettias. Ginny sighed, watching her condensed breath, for one instant and then went down the stairs that led to the park. She stopped on the last ramp and leaned against the banister, enjoying the feeling of the snow on her bare skin.  
"If you don't cover yourself, you'll catch pneumonia."  
She raised her eyes to Tom, who was lingering about ten footsteps away. Ginny looked at him suspiciously and twisted her lips in a sneer. "What do you want?"  
"A snow-covered Hogwarts is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen in my life," he said, ignoring her question. "Even if the most beautiful season is spring, when the cherry blossom trees are in bloom."  
"Cherry blossom trees at Hogwarts? You should take joking lessons from Fred and George."  
"I'm not joking. Not everybody knows about that place, you need to walk a bit into the Forbidden Forest. There are about a dozen Japanese cherry blossom trees that were planted a few years after the school was founded. I used to study there in spring."  
Ginny looked sideways at him, as if he was a dangerous animal restrained by a half rotten chain; Tom didn't look at her, as he was lost deep in thought. The young witch turned back to the snow, and after a long silence she said, "Why did you kill Professor Vector?"  
"What would you have done in my place?"  
"I would have preferred you to be the object of scandal and get expelled from Hogwarts, if that would have been enough to free me from you."  
"Do you really believe that it would have been so easy? If I killed Ellis, it was also to protect you."  
"Since when does the Dark Lord care to protect young blood-traitor witches?" Ginny snorted mockingly. Nevertheless, deep inside she felt… pleased? Maybe.  
Ginny saw Tom's lips curve into a smile. "Since when protecting you, I am also protecting myself, Virginia."  
From Great Hall flowed a soft melody. As if the cold wanted to suffocate the sound, there was a brief pause, filled by incomprehensible chattering. It was soon replaced by a new melody and singer a slightly husky voice. Suddenly, images resurfaced from Ginny's memories; an image of a warm summer night and of a moonless and starry sky, and an image of arms wrapped around her body that made her whirl at the exotic and romantic rhythm of the song.  
"Where have I heard this song?" she asked herself, frowning slightly.  
Tom didn't move his eyes from the sky as he answered her. "Shame on you, Virginia, even a baby would recognize Marlene Lestrange's most famous song," he whispered, looking at her thoughtfully.  
She snorted, looking back at him. They stared at each other in silence, as if they both wanted to read the other's thoughts.

_… You are blind and don't see_  
_Your love for me and mine for you_  
_You don't see kismet's red yarn_  
_Tying our souls like one_  
_A bond so strong it hurts…_

A kiss that has been craved for so long - too long - was as intense as a farewell kiss, but sweeter and more feverish. This tension, winding and coiling like sprays of pins which loosened without finding satisfaction; and a stinging that tried to violate the skin's intimacy to overwhelm the mind. Then, they felt cold no more.

Isabella followed her cousin to the portico with her eyes , all the while pretending to be interested at what a flirty Hufflepuff was telling her. She smiled at her own thoughts, as she mentally counted up to ten. Then she finished her drink, apologized to the boy and went outside. She didn't lean too much out the portico, afraid that Tom and Ginny would see her that she was spying on them. She found them tender and funny, and they reminded her of two shy children. She threw a glance behind her shoulders, but the other students were still dancing. Isabella bit her lower lip: soon the other couples will be going for a romantic walk underneath the stars. She wanted to do something, but she couldn't.  
"The proof of the pudding is in the eating, Isa. And they are eating…" she whispered with a small smile, observing the kiss that Tom and Ginny had denied for so much time.  
She looked again at the Great Hall and saw a couple of girls wrapping large shawls around them for a walk in the snow. Isabella fixed her eyes on Tom and Ginny, focusing her thoughts on some words and a place, she then closed the eyes and her voice modulated a chant. When she finished the spell, she was caught by a strong dizziness and had to lean on the banister to catch her balance, but she was satisfied of what she had accomplished.  
"Iris," she said with a weak and tired voice, as a rustle among the shadows answered her, "Go to the Aunts and tell them that it couldn't have gone better."  
She waited some minutes, only a flutter of wings to confirm the messenger's departure. Isabella sat down on a bench and leaned her head against the wall behind her. She felt weak, as if she had a high fever and her temples were throbbing wildly. She also had a sick feeling at the pit of the stomach, like she needed to retch.  
"Isabella, w'ere is… are you feeling well?" Fleur asked with a worried voice.  
Isabella smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders. "It's just a migraine, tomorrow I'll feel better. What's wrong?"  
"Nozing, I was just looking for Ginny: 'ave you seen 'er?"  
"She's gone to bed, don't worry," the young witch replied with a malicious grin.  
"So soon? It's not even eleven… _Oui, je me rapelle_, s'e said s'e wouldn't stay to long.  
"And do you know w'ere Thomas is? Bill is looking for 'im."  
"Gone to bed too. And I think it would be best if I go to bed as well: I don't think I'll feel any better by staying in that din," answered Isabella with a wider grin as she got up. She wished good night to Fleur and left the Great Hall, humming happily.

* * *

Gasping for air, Tom and Ginny both looked ,amazed by the kiss's intensity. They didn't know or care how they managed to arrive in Tom's bedroom . Without stopping to kiss her, Tom tightly embraced Ginny, a hand sinking into her hair while the other fumbled with her dress robe's ribbons.  
"Virginia… Virginia…" he whispered on her mouth, "you don't know how many times I have imagined this moment, how many times I have desired for you to come to me, to be able to kiss your lips, to caress your hair, to taste your skin and to make love to you, once again without a spell to distort us…"  
Ginny hushed him by placing two fingers on his lips. "Hush… don't say anything else…" she whispered, caressing his cheek with her other hand.  
His beard was as soft as thistle's down, yet it left a pleasant itch on her palms. His skin was pale and his forehead was marked by wrinkles. She watched as his fleshy lips held her fingers, and sucked them gently. They resumed kissing while their hands fumbled with ribbons and buttons, each freeing the other from the useless layers of cloth and enjoying the intimacy of bare skin. Tom ran his hand through Ginny's hair, making the hairpins fall and freeing the fiery curls from their hold. His lips travelled along her jaw, lingering on her earlobe and then slipping down her neck before biting her shoulder sensually. He wrapped his arms around her body, lifting her slightly in the air.

Tom carried Ginny to the bed and, after have placed her down, he stretched atop her, supporting his weight with his elbows. Ginny looked at him seductively and invitingly, wrapping her arms around his neck as if she wanted to test his endurance, as Tom caressed her forehead with his thumb. She leaned forward, pulling him slightly to her. She kissed him with an infuriating slowness, as if she wanted to impress every touch and every feeling she in her memory. He didn't couldn't do anything but restrain his impatience and adapt himself to her rhythm, which was slower than his.  
Tom hands may already know every inch of Ginny's skin, nevertheless, they moved in awe as if this was their first exploration –and in a way, it was. They slipped lightly along her breasts and her sides, and then one down went down to the hollow of a knee while the other massaged Ginny's breast. He slipped inside her unexpectedly, pulling her up with him when he sat against the headboard. They looked at each other intensely, their foreheads leaning against each other as they began to move at the unison.  
They gave calm touches, firm but delicate, as if they feared to leave marks on the other's skin. They were warm touches, like sunshine in March, and revitalizing like a summer drizzle. They were ancient touches, an archaic dance that in bygone times propitiated the New Year's fertility.  
Entwined in loving knots, there was nothing in their minds, neither a sense of guilt nor the imposition of enchantments. They didn't care about who or what the other person was, but what mattered was to be one soul and body, it was the sense of fullness and completeness that surrounded them in coils of scorching passion.   
Tom fell on the bed and Ginny placed her head on his chest without parting from him. She breathed deeply his scent of cologne and violets, mixed with the musky and arousing scent of the aftermath, while her ecstatic eyes looked without seeing the poinsettias on the mantelpiece.

* * *

1: To pronounce as in French.  
2: Spoof of Dolce & Gabbana, made using the Italian for _Muggle_. 


	18. Of choices

If you ever though that I had given up this story, you are pretty wrong: it's just that things got in the way. Things like job commissions, or weddings, or the arrival of His Cuteness –who has just fell asleep in my arms while I was finishing the last touch ups.  
Add the fact that I was pretty afraid to have lost the ensemble of China Doll's chapter –both translated and untraslated- and you get the picture. But yesterday evening I found my supposed-lost stories' folder in an old backup hard disk, and here you go: ChiDo's eighteenth chapter after more than three years.

Ah, and the beginning of this chapter is supposed to be confusing - who won't be, when dealing with centaurs and seers?

**.: XVIII :.**

_**Of choices**_

There was something in the air, something that even the common minds could perceive, though they were not able to name it. It was something able to make even the bravest heart fail. The moon had already set and only the stars lightened the cloudless, velvet-like black shy. Three figures wrapped in dusty grey gauze stood before the cave's entrance. A fire was burning behind them, casting a reddish glow on their white tresses. From a brazier rose a bluish smoke, smelling of burnt herbs, among which included the aromatic smell of sage and the resinous scent of thuja branches. A growing noise echoed in the laurels grove, like the stampede of the hooves of animals. With glassy eyes, the three women stared at the centaur horde before them.  
"Hail, Sons of Chiron who burn in the Skies. Hail!"  
"Hail, Grey Dames who See the Spirits' intentions. Hail!"  
They bowed to each other, mindful of ancient customs.  
"The time in near…"  
"… Choices will be made…"  
"… And soon there will be a sign," said the three Dames, as if they had one mind.  
"The moon is changing her phase," whispered the oldest centaur, "and soon she will be full. The stars are getting brighter day by day."  
"Pandora's box will be opened again. We saw the misfortunes that came out from it into the Dark Night when the Mother was deprived of her majesty and was deposed from the World's Throne, but the most precious good it is still inside the Jar."  
"Aldebaran is like a burning torch, guiding flame and staff. The Virgin Pleiades eschew him."  
"Seventh of seventh…"  
"… and only of seven…"  
"… seventh after seven lives of man."  
"Will be Atlas's daughters' garden the chosen place? Or will Castor and Pollux gain what they desire?"  
"Soon there will be a sign," ended the three Dames with one voice.  
They bowed again.  
"Farewell, Grey Dames who See the Spirits' intentions. Farewell!"  
"Farewell, Sons of Chiron who burns in the Skies. Farewell!"  
The centaurs retreated back to the laurels grove, and the Dames turned their eyes to the rising swirls of bluish smoke, smelling heavily of sage and thuja.

* * *

They were lying side by side, holding each other tenderly as they watched the falling snow.  
"What time is it?"  
"Does it matter?"  
"Breakfast should be served shortly…"  
"I'm not hungry, I just want to stay like this all day long…"  
"If somebody comes..."  
"Then it'll be the right moment to decide to destroy Hogwarts."  
"You're not funny."  
"It's you who don't understand my sense of humour. Come closer…"  
Ginny mumbled something incomprehensible and pulled the duvet over her head. Tom rolled his eyes, and with a small smile on his fleshy lips: he wrapped his arms around her waist and turned on his back, pulling her atop him. She rested her cheek on the back of her hand, while the fingers of her other hand brushed against a scar on his chest. "How did you get this?"  
Tom didn't reply at first, he just stared at the ceiling. Then he answer, "When I was a little boy, there was this older boy in the orphanage who didn't like me. One day, when it was our turn to tidy up after lunch, we had a fight about who have done the best job. At one point, he grabbed a fruit knife and he ran into me. In the end, I got a telling-off and this scar, and he got a three-day-long detention.  
"Thinking about it, that was the only time that the nuns didn't accused me…"  
"That's… that's awful! How can you talk about it so carelessly?"  
"I'm used to it. After all, most of the people here at Hogwarts would like to see me die slowly and painfully, or to be kissed by a Dementor. I don't want to talk about these things. Better yet, let's not talk at all…" Tom ended, catching her lips with his own.  
Ginny kissed him back just as enthusiastically, but then a thought –a memory- nudged in the back of her head. "If you knew that Professor Snape was a traitor, why are you letting him live?"  
"You really want to ruin the moment, don't you?" snorted Tom, slightly exasperated, and then he sighed. "Severus had a wife, Hipatia. It was one of those arranged marriage, but luckily they were childhood friends and they had grown up as brother and sister. Hipatia's ideas were… unusual for a Pureblood witch and she didn't like her husband's choice to be a Death Eater, so she did as much as possible to make him chance his mind.  
"About one year before my defeat, she got pregnant. Hipatia had serious health problems, which caused a detachment of the placenta: the baby was stillborn and she died a few hours later. I think it was then that Hipatia asked Severus to betray me. To cut a long story short, Virginia, we have to respect our… dear ones' memory and their last wish. In addition, Severus belong to the best kind of traitors: he betrayed his leader, but not his ideals."  
Ginny bit her lower lip and looked away. She had never thought that once upon a time Professor Snape had loved and had been loved, and least of all loving a woman who was the reason behind his betrayal. With a huge sigh, she closed her eyes. Ginny felt at peace, like she hadn't been in months, and a pleasant quietness tingled in her body. She felt Tom's lips brushing against her hair and her forehead. Their mouths met, caressing each other slowly and deepening the kiss.  
"I would like to know why I can't stop desiring you," she whispered among kisses. "It is not that I'm in love with you," she stated.  
"It's our bond's fault. Despite the fact that we can't stand each other, you desire me as much as I desire you. That's because after my diary's failure, and despite the _Psychesyllego_ Spell, a piece of my soul is in you and a piece of yours is in me. Our respective souls long for its missing piece and alas, this searching involves every part of us. The rip-off is that we will never be fully happy with someone else, but at the same time, together we can only achieve an imitation of happiness."  
Ginny snorted and pursed her lips. "I don't want to admit it, but I think you're right. I can't understand this situation, therefore every explanation is welcome." She was silent, lost in her own thoughts, and then she chuckled. "You know, I was thinking about what would have happened if Lucius Malfoy had given the diary to one of my brothers."  
"Virginia, that's disgusting! You'll pay for this!" said Tom, beginning to tickle her: Ginny struggled, trying uselessly to avoid his hands and tickle him back. They fell on the wooden floor, still wrapped in the sheets and the duvet. Tom held her tightly, before kissing her passionately.  
Someone knocked on the door. They froze, staring at the door. There was another knock, before a voice said. "C'mon, I know you're awake!"  
They both sighed in relief as they recognized Isabella's voice, and then Tom cleared his throat. "What's up, Isabellina?"  
"What_ what's up_? I've brought some clean clothes for Gin. If she goes in the Great Hall wearing last night gown, everybody will know she has got laid. I'm counting to three, then I'm going to open this door. One… two…"  
"No, wait a…"  
"… three!" In a fraction of a second, Isabella opened the door, saw what state Tom and Ginny were in and promptly slammed the door. "Damn! You could have warn me that you both were stark nude! My poor eyes, so chaste and pure…ruined by such a sight…"  
"Perhaps, if you listened to me for one moment, your _chaste_ and _pure_ eyes would have seen nothing," retorted Tom, getting back into his bed.  
Ginny, instead, reached the door and whispered, "Thank you, Isa, can you pass me the clothes?" she took the garments, sat down on the bed and got dressed.  
"It is useless to ask you to stay a bit longer, right?" Tom asked, staring at her.  
Ginny tightened her lips as she buttoned her shirt. "My dorm mates would be wondering where I am…"  
They said nothing; and they could only hear Isabella humming in the next room. Ginny put on her mary janes and turned to go away, but Tom grabbed her wrist.  
"Will you come to me again?"  
"And you, will you force me again?"  
Neither of them replied to the other's question. Tom dropped her wrist and turned in his bed, giving her his back. Ginny picked up off the floor her clothes from the previous night, she shrank them and put them in a pocket.  
Outside, Isabella looked cheerful and oddly satisfied. She glanced knowingly at her friend and whispered, "At last you two admitted you are head-over-heels for each other."  
"What?" exclaimed Ginny, caught off guard. "What on earth got into you?"  
"I'm not stupid: I saw the way you two looked at each other…"  
Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "First, how could I fall in love with… with a crazy megalo-homicidal maniac? And second, can you explain how someone like him could feel anything vaguely like love?"  
"Can you explain what happened last night? We both know that you went with him willingly."  
"It's… it's because we share a part of each other's souls," Ginny replied, biting her lips.  
Isabella chuckled and then said, "As you wish, Gin, you are free to delude yourself, but no one can dupe Aunty Isa."

* * *

Ginny looked on with curiosity and surprise at her older brother. It was the new year's first Hogsmeade Saturday and Bill had told her they had to talk with their parents. It seemed like it was something very important. At first, Ginny thought that Bill knew about Tom and her, and in that case she didn't know what to do. It was a relief, and maybe it was finally time she could get rid of him. But then Tom's words came back to her mind: some time after the Yule Ball, he told her that if something happened to one of them, nobody knew what would happen of the other.  
Ginny wrapped her cloak tighter around herself: if Bill knew, then he would have warned the Aurors, and Tom would have already been arrested and sentenced to death…  
_A Dementor's kiss would be the best solution, but I don't think _he_ would accept losing his soul to free you from your bond, _Blaise's voice echoed in her head. Maybe she could request Tom to be kissed but to ask for his soul as a part of her payment for damages. The war would be over as well…  
She smiled at Bill, as he took her cloak and called Madam Rosmerta.  
"Don't worry, you're not late," replied the woman, as she led them upstairs, "they arrived no more than ten minutes ago." She took them into a room and Mrs Weasley got up to greet her children.  
Beyond her mother's shoulder, Ginny saw her father, Percy, the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and two Aurors.  
"I'm so happy to see you, Ginny. How are you? You should owl us more often." Smiled Mr Weasley, kissing his daughter's forehead.  
Ginny hugged him back and glanced at the other people in the room. "I thought it was just a family reunion, why are they…"  
Mr. Weasley and Bill looked at each other, then the former put an arm around her shoulder and they sat on the couch. "Actually, it is a kind of family reunion, and as your brother told you…"  
"Told me what?"  
"What?" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, glaring at her eldest son. "William Arthur Weasley! How could you not tell your sister about it?"  
"I'm sorry but… it's not that easy, every time I tried to tell her, I couldn't find the right words…"  
"It is not a problem, Molly," said Professor Flitwick, trying to calm down the woman, "when Thomas arrive, we'll just have to waste a bit of time in explanation."  
Ginny gasped as she heard that: what business was it of his? If they knew something, then why did they want to involve Tom? It would have only worsened the situation. With trembling hands, Ginny accepted the cup of tea her mother handed her, trying hard not to spill it.

Tom mentally gasped as he entered into the room: what did the Weasleys, the Ministry's dogsbodies, the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress want from him? He hid his discomfort with a polite smile and introduced himself. Ginny's mother stared at him in a daze, while her father looked at him with badly hidden interest. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher sat by a window and poured himself a cup of tea, glancing at the others' faces.  
"Well, may I know the reason of this meeting?" he asked nonchalantly.  
Percy adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and took out some papers. "Professor Meridiæ, you know about the particular position of Miss Weasley here, don't you?"  
"Percy," hissed Mrs. Weasley, scandalized, "don't talk about your sister as if she is a stranger!"  
"As Ministry representative I have to act in a proper way in accordance to my position," replied the Junior Secretary flatly.  
Tom sipped his tea and pursed his lips. "If you are talking about last year's events… then yes, I had been informed."  
"And what do you know about the Death Eaters' attack at Hogsmeade?" Percy continued.  
Tom looked at the wizard silently, then he glanced at the young witch in question. Ginny was staring at her brother thoughtfully; the cup of tea raised and almost touching her lips. "I don't understand what do you mean." Tom replied.  
"It's simple, Professor," interjected Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was looking out the window, "we think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still interested in Miss Weasley."  
"Our Intelligence reported that last December he was looking for a woman," continued the other Auror, Clark Inquisitor, "taking into consideration that some followers of You-Know-Who are tailing her, it's clear that the attack's target was actually Miss Weasley."  
A cup fell on the floor, Ginny's face was so pale that it looked like a wax mask, and her expression looked like that of a caged animal. Mrs. Weasley squeezed her daughter's hand, while Bill repaired the china with a spell. Mr. Weasley looked pleadingly at the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "At this point you can understand all we want is to protect Ginny…"  
"It's obvious, Mr. Weasley, but I still don't understand what that has got to do with me," replied Tom, hiding his uneasiness. It wouldn't have been a problem if they tried to attack him, they were no match for him.  
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and laid her hand on her lap. " has quite a bit to do with you, Thomas, and if you let us explain you would agree with our –not easy- choice to safeguard Miss Weasley.  
"Reading Hogwarts's Annals and school regulation, we found an odd rule, which more than once had been useful in similar cases. According to this rule, a teacher's relatives could be authorized to live inside Hogwarts' boundaries."  
The wizard snorted amusedly and slowly sipped his tea, he then placed the cup on the table. He crossed his legs and looked at his colleague, tilting his head. "I still don't understand why you asked me to come. Bill is Miss Weasley's older brother, if you need a legal excuse all you need to do is to make him her guardian."  
"I've thought about it," whispered Bill, "and it would be the best solution, if it was possible: I would be more than happy to be Ginny's guardian, but she's of legal age. Furthermore, she could not be hired as Madam Pomfrey's assistant, as this position requires a degree in Mediwitchery that my sister wouldn't be able to get before six years.  
"But while I was researching in the school's Annals, I ran into an interpretation of this rule that fit our situation. In 1693, Rebecca Barker married the Potions teacher, Professor Dacey Danaher, since she couldn't leave Hogwarts without endangering her own life. Also, in 1944 Macey Watkins married the Astronomy teacher, Professor Aludra Idris: their marriage was annulled the following year, after Grindewald's defeat. To put things simple, they were given protections within Hogwarts even if they were neither a student, nor an employee: we wish to do the same for my sister."

Tom and Ginny looked at each other, guessing what they wanted from them, and the girl lowered her eyes, unable to say or do anything. The wizard however, massaged the bridge of his nose and leaned back into the armchair. "I hope that I have misunderstood or this is a joke in bad taste, but… do you mean for me to marry Miss Weasley?"  
"The marriage is a mere formality, like in the Watkins affair, and it'll be annulled after the end of the war," replied Percy, searching among his papers before taking out a piece of parchment. "All you are required to do today is to sign the marriage agreement, and the wedding will take place after the end of the term."  
"How could you scheme behind my back?" cried Ginny, springing to her feet. "Don't you care about my feelings or what I want?"  
Mr. Weasley placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her apologetically. "Ginny, honey, we **did** think about your feelings. But as Percy said, it's only a formality, and as soon as the war is over…"  
"You talk about it as if that would happen tomorrow morning, dad! What if the war won't be over? What if You-Know-Who wins? And what about my projects? How could I become a Healer if I have to stay at Hogwarts for years and years?"  
"Now stop it, Ginny! You may not agree with us, but you have to do this for yourself and for us, the ones who love you."  
Ginny clenched her fists and freed herself from her father's grasp, sobbing. "Why does everybody tell me what to do? Why do you all treat me as if I am a little girl? I'm not a porcelain doll!" she yelled, running out of the room.  
Bill got up to follow her, but Tom stopped him. "Leave her alone for a bit, she needs to calm down. And this doesn't mean I think your suggestion is bad, but I can't blame Miss Weasley for her reaction. I also don't like it when people try to impose on me."

Ginny couldn't believe what had just happened: her own family wanted her to marry Tom, they wanted to give her to the same man they were trying to protect her from. And she couldn't tell the truth: if her parents actually knew who Tom was, they wouldn't serve her to the Dark Lord on a silver plate.  
Ginny was so upset she didn't noticed there was someone at the pub's threshold until she bumped into her. Ginny stepped back, apologizing while wiping her tears away. She lifted her eyes to the stranger, who was a witch in her late thirties, with a common but fine beauty. Her dark red hair was styled in a elegant knot and a couple of curls slipped from her hat, framing her Renaissance Madonna-like face with a ivory and slightly freckled complexion. She stared at Ginny with a shocked expression, as if she had just seen a ghost. The witch moved her fleshy lips as to say something, but then she tightened them. "Are you hurt, miss?" eventually she asked.  
Ginny shook her head, enchanted by that voice that sounded like thousands of silvery bells and tinged with sadness. Ginny didn't know why, but she felt an eerie nostalgia and the urge to embrace the witch and comfort her, just like she did with Tom many months ago. The witch smiled and stepped aside, letting Ginny pass near her, wondering who that woman reminded her of.

Tom looked at the Weasleys as they argued, and a wicked smile curled his lips. Among all the possibilities of this world, he had never contemplated what the Weasleys had proposed him. He tried to picture Edna Fudge's face when he when he tells her about this.  
Tom leaned against the windowsill, thinking about the pros and cons. He hated any kind of bonds and the idea of marriage made him feel itchy, but despite his dislike, it wasn't a bad idea, after all. If Ginny accepted –actually that wasn't a problem, he knew how to persuade her without using the Imperius Curse- he would not only have the right to do whatever he wanted with her legally, but even their kind-of relationship would get society's approval Usually such a teacher/pupil relationship were strictly forbidden, but Ginny's supposed situation bent the rule and there were some precedents too.  
It was then that Tom saw in the streets Loveday, walking with François Lesmaudit and Juan de Fuentes y Mendoza. They looked restless and were speaking excitedly, especially Loveday, who appeared as if she was looking for someone. The Slytherin girl turned around and for a moment her eyes met her Master's, and he penetrated into her mind, and he knew at once what was going on.  
Tom said a hurried goodbye from the Weasleys and took his cloak, leaving without answering Bill's questions. As he went down the stairs, he met Madam Rosmerta, who was with a guest.  
"D-" exclaimed the woman, looking at Tom with bright eyes, then her face darkened and she smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, sir: I mistook you for someone I haven't seen in a long time."  
The wizard gasped and for a moment he forgot his hurry. If it wasn't for the colour of her hair and eyes, he would think the woman was his mother, that witch resembled her so much. "Do not worry, madam, it happens quite often," he said, noticing that the woman was wearing a cloak like his own; only hers was more worn-out. Trying to ignore that feeling of fond nostalgia toward the stranger, Tom addressed the pub's owner. "Have you seen Miss Weasley?"  
"She has gone no more than five minutes ago, and she looked quite upset. What happened?"  
Tom shook his head and let the two women pass. He stared at the stranger witch, shocked by the likeness of their eyes and the scent a fading smell of cologne and violets wafting around her, as a wave of sad sweetness grew inside him. He tightened his lips, ignoring those weird feeling, and as soon as he went outside he stared at the three young Death Eaters.  
"Tell me where that infuriating girl is. Now." he hissed.

* * *

Ginny mentally called stupid to have forgot her cloak at The Three Broomsticks. She had ran through the village, and ran till she didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care. The sweat made her feel colder too, but she didn't cared that much either. In her mind her parents and Bill and Percy's words swirled restlessly, and the way they looked at her… Ginny wondered if that was part of Tom's scheme to increase his control on her and to make her his china doll in the eyes of the world and everybody's consent. After all, that last morning on Boxing Day after the ball neither of them had answered the other's question and perhaps, thing hadn't changed between them.  
There was something… ironic in this situation, to have been freed from her imprisonment only to then fall back into the clutches – and into the bed- of the Dark Lord. Oh, yes, it had been so damn consoling to go back to a place she had yearned, but where she was not at all safe and where her own family was doing their best to make her life a true hell –even if they were not aware of what they were actually doing. If that was the life that awaited her, why did Tom let her go back home and to her ordinary life at all? It was a safe place that Ginny needed, a place where someone would take care of her like the human that she was, but that place is not the Burrow anymore.  
Unexpectedly, she felt an acute pain at her ankle, so intense it stole her breath: she fell among the bare bushes of bearberry, and the last thing she felt as she lose consciousness, was a cold wind spitting snow in her face.


	19. Dolci Acque

Sorry, but this chapter isn't betaed... u_u

To **Mai**: In my idea, some one can stay at Hogwarts (or any school) if they are a student or a member staff. In my fic, Ginny wishes to be a Mediwitch, but if she wants to be hired as Madam Pomfrey's assistant, first she would have to get a degree or something, and so be outside Hogwarts for x or y years.

* * *

**XIX  
Dolci Acque**

There was an unknown noise, like a hand knocking on a glass accompanied by an almost inhuman wail. There also was a scent of aromatic woods, slightly spicy, and something soft and warm wrapping her. First, Ginny half opened her eyes, then opened them wide suddenly as she sat: she was not in the Hospital Wing, neither at the Burrow nor in any other place she knew. She wondered if she was in another hideout of the Dark Lord, but as soon as that thought crossed her mind, the wind shook more strongly hidden branches against the windows, as if it felt outraged by that hypothesis.

Ginny drew away the wool blanket and tried to get off the bed, but as soon as she put her feet on the floor, she groaned with pain: raising the nightgown's hem, she saw a bandaged ankle, tightened by sticks in the Muggle way (probably it had been charmed to not bother her). Sitting on the bed and repeating questions that lately she had asked herself too often for her tastes, she looked around: the room was little larger than the Burrow's best living room and the ceiling's dark beams made her think about the most ancient part of her family's house, but the resemblances stopped there. Everything in the room spoke about a sober and austere wealth, a bit rustic maybe, but it had nothing to envy to the ancient English mansions' pomposity -her mother kept a special Weekly Witch number dedicated to residences like Villa Hylonome, Malfoy Manor, White Fire and the number** of Royal Crescent, which back then still was the Crouches' home. The walls were adorned by wooden panels with flower-like inlays and a magical circle in the middle of the floor, while the peak of the canopy was decorated by a bas-relief of an apple tree dryad.

A noise startled her and at once Ginny went back beneath the sheets, pulling an edge above her head: she heard a door open and a voice hushing someone, she heard them whisper so low that she didn't understood their words, then there was a noise of metal against wood and the crackle of a fire. Unexpectedly there was a strong knock and the blow of the wind, and right after the noise of something breaking.

"_Per __Danu_!" a female voice exclaimed.

Curiously, Ginny moved the sheet away enough to see what was going on: a broken flowerpot lay on the floor and the snow was getting inside through a window, which a woman was closing. She was a young woman, perhaps a bit older than Bill, with a delicate profile illuminated by the white and pale light raining from outside: she wore a scarlet girdle embroidered with gold and pearls, the undergarments' lace peeped from the neckline and the sleeves; her hair were black, picked in braids and knots held by precious clasps and threads of pearls. Se looked somewhat familiar to Ginny.

The woman had some difficulties to close the window, because of the strong wind: Ginny looked at her as she repaired the broken flowerpot with an elegant wrist movement, and as she turned the wand to the water on the floor, she noticed that the girl was awake.

"I beg you pardon, did we awakened you, Miss Weasley?" she asked with light mortification.

Ginny shook the head, surprised by the fact that the stranger knew her name and used it with such familiarity. At first, Ginny realized that the woman looked a lot like Blaise, with the same purple eyes and the same black hair, but looking at her a little bit more attentively, she remembered to her more of Melinda.

"Where am I?" asked Ginny, reassured by that realization.

"At Dolci Acque," the woman answered quietly, bringing her a tray with foods that Ginny had never seen. "Lunch time is already passed: I hope that you would like the soup."

Ginny didn't answer, she just looked at the steaming soup, then, when the woman was about to leave, she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, but… could you tell me how I've got here? I mean, I was at Hogsmeade and then… I mean… what happened?"

The woman smiled, lingering on the threshold. "We have found you this morning next the… in our garden, I may suppose you Apparated there, but that is a mere hypothesis. Blaise or Melinda must have invited you here; otherwise Dolci Acque's wards would have pushed you back."

Ginny looked at surprised the woman: she wanted to say something but she then changed her mind. "Thank you, err…?"

The woman smiled bitterly and curtsied. "Miss Zabini."

Miss Zabini went back in the afternoon, and for Ginny's great surprise, with Galene: the Healer seemed glad to see her at Dolci Acque; she said that a stay there would have been a cure-all for her magical balance. The elderly witch healed the broken ankle and finding a chill ( "after all we don't know how long she had been unconscious in the snow," said Miss Zabini) for which Galene prescribed an infusion of herbs and a potion, and before the old Healer left, she recommended to be warned at once if there were any kind of complication.

"Miss Weasley, I will howl your mother about your presence and future convalescence at Dolci Acque: if you desire to add a note to the letter…"

Ginny looked stupefied at Miss Zabini, but it was only for a moment: she shook her head with decision saying that, after what had happened, there was nothing she wanted to say to her family. Miss Zabini didn't insisted, she just sighed pensively and wished her a serene rest.

.: ° :.

Galene thought that Ginny was enough in health to face a journey; nevertheless Miss Zabini never talked about her guest's departure. Ginny didn't mind that, there was something reassuring in those rooms with narrow windows and in those draughty corridors: she spent most of her time by keeping company to Mrs. de Giorgis, Blaise's grandmother, or in the kitchen helping Zia Luisa, a Muggle whom who-knows-how had become a family member. Instead, she met Blaise almost for chance one day in the library: he wore a travelling cloak made of a rustic fabric, which struggled with the smoothness of the jacket he wore beneath.

"Good afternoon, Virginia," he said with a little smile, "I'm sorry to not have been able to come back earlier, I would have been more than happy to keep you company during your convalescence."

Ginny smiled back. "Don't worry, your aunt and your older sister are a very pleasing company."

Blaise looked at her a thoughtfully, frowning slightly and tightening his lips. "No one told me Marinka was here…"

She laughed, since she remembered Marinka Kandyski, whom she had met once at Hogsmeade. "Not her, the other one, Miss Zabini."

After a moment, the boy laughed shaking his head. "Miss Zabini is my mother, not my sister."

Ginny opened wide her mouth in surprise and blushed. "I'm sorry, I… I mean, I've heard that your mother was young, but I didn't think **that** young… and I then thought your parents were married."

"I suppose you have not heard the gossips or read the appendixes of _Hogwarts:__A__History_. But there's no need to apology, after all they're only stale falsehood," Blaise answered taking his silver cigarette case. "What's worse is that the truth is too complicated to explain or understand." And a note of bitterness veiled his voice.

Ginny kept silent, preferring to avoid such private questions: she wondered what really was behind the massive structure of gossips; she once had eavesdropped on her mother talking about that with her sisters-in-law. Yet Miss Zabini (whose name was Isolde) didn't look at all a scarlet woman, as at times Molly Weasley had called her: Isolde Zabini was a discreet and sensible woman, her way were filled of such dignity that the prostitutes lacked, no matter how good actresses they could be.

Life at Dolci Acque was quiet, following rhythms completely different from those she was used to, at a point that Ginny wondered how her past days could have been so wild. Moreover it felt as if everything at Dolci Acque did its best to make her feel at home: Blaise made her make of the long walks in the estate- which included almost the whole valley and in which there were plenty of cool and crystalline water's sources, after which it had been named- and amused her with different anecdotes of the history of the Zabini family. Miss Isolde, instead, divided her own time between her and her own mother («If you have had the opportunity to meet my mother, it's just because _nonna_i is not very well," Blaise told her one day), but she seemed to appreciate much Ginny's company.

During those first days at Dolci Acque, Ginny also had the chance to meet some other members of the Zabini family, like the Countess Aunt Italia, a matron of more than one-hundred-and-thirty-years-old who kept energy and a strong temper unusual for a witch of her age. Ginny had also met again the Aunt Sveva, whom she had just glimpsed the previous summer at Santa Eufemia and whom had helped Ginny to go back to her family: the young witch felt at peace among those people, as if she had been with them at Dolci Acque for a long time.

However, how she has arrived there was still a mystery. One afternoon, Miss Zabini called Ginny in her own chambers and she asked her how went her Apparation classes: the girl looked a little bit surprised by the unusual question and with shame; she admitted that she was still a bit slow on that.

"I understand, and I suppose that your arrival is a part of Dolci Acque's peculiarities."

"Pardon?"

"Aunt Sveva told me what happened last summer, moreover Galene made me an account about your magical health," the woman explained, looking at the fire, "and in one of her last letters, your mother has hinted to the reasons of your flee.

It's my belief that you have asked unconsciously for harbour and that Dolci Acque granted you its protection and some time to reflect."

"Dolci Acque is a manor, not a living being," Ginny replied.

"Dolci Acque is like the House on the Chicken Legs: it has a soul, a personality. It is unsociable and touchy, that's why here you are safe: you have asked for its help and it won't let pass whoever wants to hurt you."

Ginny bent her head thoughtful. "Would it also keep away my family?" she asked at last.

"Virginia, you know that your parents ignore the evil they are doing," said Miss Zabini quietly. "Parents wish only the best for their children: sometimes they do the right thing, others the wrong one. I do not deny that my family has some interests concerning you- and I'm not talking just about Blaise- however, we realize that the better thing for you is that youyourself make your choices, freely: if you allow me a metaphor, you have to decide to take the longest way or to face the forest's dangers."

.: ° :.

Ginny thought about Miss Zabini's words: why did she tell her that she could choose? After all, for her family there was no other solution but marrying Tom. Which was this second option? She couldn't understand: she had tried to have more explanation, but the only answer she got was a laconic "you will understand when your mother comes: talking with her will help you make a decision."

"I don't want to see my mother, neither to talk her," the girl replied, and before she realized it, the day of Mrs. Weasley's arrival had come.

Ginny had not wasted time, and as soon as she had heard of it, she went to Blaise begging him to take her somewhere -anywhere- in order to see her mother as later as possible: the boy extinguished his cigarette and stroked thoughtfully his chin. "I don't think my mother would allow us to go anywhere today…" He then had stared at the valley beyond the windows, and after an other instant of silent contemplation, he offered his arm to Ginny and he smiled at her. "But we could have a looong walk in the valley, and since the snow is melting, see how spring is progressing."

Molly Weasley was surprised by Miss Zabini's invitation to join her daughter at Dolci Acque, and she was even more surprised in front of the coach hauled by ox-like creatures that arrived on a March morning in front of her house: a young woman descent from it, richly dressed, and said with a light curtsy: "Hail, Molly Éabha Prewett Weasley, _Madame_ have entrusted me to accompany you at her home."

Mrs. Weasley stared at the woman in utter shock; she told herself that rich people had to be weirder than what she thought as she quickly got ready to leave. When the witch arrived at Dolci Acque, she was welcomed by an elderly lady -probably a Squib- whom spoke a very bad English: Molly Weasley asked for at once to see his daughter, a question that the woman took a little bit to understand.

"Err… _com'è__che__si__dice_… you girl is out with Blaise but… err… she goes back soon."

Mrs. Weasley felt outraged: she hadn't done all that way to hear that Ginny was not there! With her face as red as her hair, she insisted, but they still had some language's misunderstanding, then the elderly woman sighed in relief as she said something to somebody who was coming.

"Mrs. Weasley, I suppose." Molly nodded, a bit embarrassed, as she stared for the first time in her life to the infamous Isolde Zabini. "I apologize to have not welcomed you myself, but some things took me more time than I thought." Molly Weasley gaped uneasily: at that reaction, the woman smiled again. "And I ask your apologies also for not have introduced myself, ours recent correspondence had made me forget that we have never met: I am Miss Zabini and I welcome you at Dolci Acque," she ended with a small curtsy.

A bit clumsily, Mrs. Weasley did the same. "It' me who should be sorry… err… I didn't know you were… so young," she replied.

Isolde Zabini didn't answer, she could well imagine what Mrs. Weasley was really thinking, and afterward the whole English magical community knew that she was only fourteen-years-old when she conceived Blaise. And she apologized again, this time for the momentary Ginny's absence. "They wanted to see how spring is progressing, but Blaise and Virginia should come back within about half an hour: why don't you rest a bit in the meantime?"

Ginny made a grimace when, once back at Dolci Acque with Blaise, she saw her mother waiting for her in the living room and the young wizard had to push her toward her mother: the young witch was rather cold, she didn't have forgotten the reason of her flight.

Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, embraced her tightly. "You have no idea of how much we were worried! We feared the Death Eaters had kidnapped you again and… Merlin, I don't want to think about that! Are you all right, honey? You look so pale… and how you have grown thin! But it's not a problem, tomorrow we'll go back home and…"

"I'm not coming back home," Ginny growled, freeing herself from her mother's grasp.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her, and then she glanced accusatory to Blaise and his mother: after all they were Slytherins; it would not have been strange if they had plagiarized her daughter. Isolde Zabini sensed hee guest's thoughts, feeling a bit vexed by them: she thought that the main cause of the English Magical Community's situation were the prejudices of people like the Weasleys and the Malfoys, when a mutual respect and a more open mind would be enough to get rid of the motives of the Magical War. She smiled at that thought: according to her guest's logic, someone like her must not do of such conjectures. Blaise, instead, was about to protest at the implied insinuation, but a gesture of his mother stopped him.

"Mrs. Weasley, you are just arrived and do you already talk about departures? Your journey has been long and tiring, have the good sense to refresh yourself and the politeness to grant us your company." It was thank Blaise's grandmother that an argument was avoided.

Mrs. Weasley decided it was better to grin and bear, and with a stingy smile she admitted that felt a bit tired and Miss Zabini postponed any explanation for after dinner.

During the dinner, a palpable tension could be felt around the table: Molly Weasley was on the watch, looking at her hosts and the food as if a venomous tentacle was about to sprout out; Blaise was ready to explode at the tiniest provocation; Ginny, on the other hand, deigned her mother of a glance or a word only when she had no other choice. Isolde Zabini mentally showed white flag: all through the meal, she had tried to put everybody at ease with disappointing results, but she had to face the situation. She drank a last sip of wine, she dried her lips and she began: "I assume that you know why your daughter is here, Mrs. Weasley, isn't it?"

Molly, caught off guard by that very question, was about to answer in the most obvious way, but changed her mind and looked for a less insulting answer. "I suppose that you… have found her. Before the Death Eaters, I mean."

Isolde Zabini sighed. "Not exactly, but I assume that it was Virginia herself to come here." Mrs. Weasley was about to reply, but the younger woman anticipated the question. "It doesn't matter **how**, but **why**: from what I have been told, your family is planning is a marriage which doesn't meet your daughter's approbation."

"It's for her best! I don't want to lose again my daughter!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed with vehemence, as if she had to defend herself from a terrible accusation.

"I am a mother too, madam," Isolde replied quietly, "I understand your wish to protect your daughter- and Virginia knows it too. But she thinks that this solution is a mistake, right?" She ended looking at the girl.

Ginny tightened her lips with anger and nodded. "I don't want the others to take decisions in my place," she growled.

"And then what do you want to do? To leave Hogwarts and let You-Know-Who kill you at the first opportunity? There is no other solution keep you safe!"

"Virginia could stay here, at Dolci Acque: I… we could offer her a protection ten times better than the one she could get at Hogwarts!" Blaise exclaimed.

Mrs. Weasley glared fiery at him: in her ears, that was simply indecent. Once more Miss Zabini had to save the day, first she glared at her son to put him back in his place and then she said. "By the way, Blaise is right: Dolci Acque would be a safe place for Virginia, here the Dark Lord could and would not dare to harm her. Guests are sacred for us."

"I don't… mean any harm, Miss Zabini, but I don't think that you or your family could offer the same warranties as…"

"Do you dare ask for warranties, madam?" hissed Isolde Zabini, her voice as sharp as a blade. "Are not the Confraternity's rules, more ancient and respected than Hogwarts', a sufficient warranty? Are not my title and my role a warranty itself? Or the even the Zabini's name, whom since man's memory is the keeper of those valleys? And talking about warranties, what are the ones of **your** solution?"

Dismayed and frightened by the sudden change in the young lady's appearance and words, Molly hesitated. "W-well, Hogwarts is protected by powerful magical barriers… and then Professor Meridiæ is the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, he will know certainly-"

Isolde Zabini laughed at that answer. "If Hogwarts is still untouched, it is for a mere matter of time: magical barriers of that kind have always a weak point and as the time pass, they grow weaker. About your teacher… we know the Meridiæs and their nature. But about this topic, the wiser thing is to let Virginia decide." She looked at Ginny, and she said with her usual soft voice: "Do you remember when, some time ago, I told you that there was an alternative?" The young witch, after an instant of uncertainty, nodded. "Well, you can choice to go back at Hogwarts and marry Professor Meridiæ, or stay here at Dolci Acque, with the title you think more suitable for you."

Ginny gasped: rationally, she knew that the best thing to do was stay at Dolci Acque rather than go back to Hogwarts, where would she have been fully in Tom's hands, so why wasn't she able to say it? What was keeping those words in her throat?

"There is no need to reply at once," Isolde started again, guessing the reason of her hesitation, "If you need some time to think, I will guarantee you all the quiet you need to freely decide without any pressure - yes Mrs. Weasley, this includes even you."

"Thank you, Miss Zabini," Ginny answered, feeling relieved: after all, she just needed to understand what was keeping her from choosing Dolci Acque.

.: ° :.

That was the last time they talked about that, Miss Zabini or who for her made sure that no one urged Ginny. Blaise was almost every day sent out on his mother's business. Mrs. Weasley, instead, tried to convince her daughter to go back home with her as often as possible: Ginny was annoyed, so much that one afternoon she had even tried to explain **why** she wouldn't and couldn't accept the idea of marrying Tom. She was ill once more, just like when she had tried to tell Professor Snape about the Dark Lord: Galene was called as soon as possible and Isolde Zabini had to talk face to face with Molly. But for Ginny, the biggest problem was not her mother, but not being able to understand **why** she was so indecisive: she thought over and over, but she wasn't able to find an answer.

That night, Ginny was more sleepless than usual: she turned and tosses uselessly in her bed; she even had another warm bath too, but it was useless.

"Phew, if I don't do anything, I'll have a sleepless night!" she snorted sitting on the bed, whispering a _Lumos_ and taking the History of Magic's book from the bedside table: reading it and imagining Professor Binns's voice was a decent therapy for sleeplessness, yet that night even such a remedy seemed to not work. Ginny moved away the tome with an angry gesture, got up and wrapped her in a dressing gown: she hoped to remember all the way to the kitchen and which was exactly the potions closet. As she walked along the hallway illuminated by a faint shine -magic, doubtlessly, she had as the impression that the walls around her were breathing and as if thousand eyes and thousand ears were spying each of her footstep. She tightened the dressing gown around her as she speeded up to escape from that… whatever was following her: it looked as if she was living a nightmare –she even thought that she had actually fallen asleep. After all she didn't know well Dolci Acque and her unconscious could create one of its likings. With her heart beating loudly, Ginny turned her head to see if there was someone behind her. An unexpected obstacle, an unknown curse blown by a known voice.

"Blaise?" she whispered with her heart in her throat.

"Ginny, what are you doing up at this time of the night?"

"You… you scared me!"

Blaise snickered in the dark. "Really? I didn't mean to."

"Ah ah ah, you're so funny," she grumbled, then added with a little voice. "Err… Blaise? Could you tell me where is kitchen? This house is so different at night."

The young wizard said nothing; he just smiled and offered her his arm. They didn't talk during that walk through the hallways and the shadows of Dolci Acque, a forced embarrassed silence was between them, and after a couple of potion's drops and a glass of waters, the boy accompanied again her to her bedroom. They lingered in front of the door, which Blaise had opened for her: they looked at each other for a long instant, and then the boy leaned on her, grazing her lips with his own. "Good night, Virginia."

Ginny didn't know how they ended in the bed, skin against skin, but the bitter taste of tobacco on Blaise's lips seemed more extraneous than the last time she had kissed him. His hands, a bit callous and hardened by his solitary travels, were so rough on her body. Why wasn't she able to get out the image of Tom from her mind? Why with Blaise she wasn't able to _feel_ as with Tom? It was as if her body couldn't bear a man's flesh but the Dark Lord's. Nevertheless Blaise was more delicate, he cared more of her pleasure that his own, while Tom was liker a voracious wolf who only care to appease his hunger.

The boy removed a lock from her forehead, his purple eyes stared into hers intensely.

"You will never be fully happy with… with me, do you know that, Virginia?" he whispered unexpectedly, but when she tried to answer, he placed her two fingers on her lips. "And you won't happy onyourown until _he_ is alive: you have to have his soul, to keep it with you because is that what you need! You don't need his body or his feelings, if he has any, and… Let's flight away, Virginia! My mother… la Grande Épouse could wed us right now if we ask her… I know places where no one could find us… I will protect you from _him_… you will learn to love me once again…"

Ginny stared at him speechless: how she wanted tell him _yes_! How she wanted to thank him for that one small detail, the one that had always eluded her, the key of everything! She embraced him pulling him closer. She had made her choice, she just needed to go forward.

The morning after, both Ginny and Blaise acted as if nothing happened between them the previous night, it was their silent agreement: both ate thoughtfully their breakfast, waiting for who knows what.

"I… I have made my mind up," Ginny whispered at last, closing the eyes as she sipped her café latté.

Her mother, sitting in front Miss Isolde, she looked at her both hopefully and depressed. "So, are you going back home or…"

The girl tightened her lips and looked at her mother: her rational side was still telling her that it would be better to stay at Dolci Acque, but would she have been happy there? _Would__you__be__really__happy__here,__Ginny?_ She sighed, throwing a meaningful look to the young wizard.

"I've though about what you… told me yesterday, Blaise," she started, a little bit hesitant, "I don't want none of you to misunderstand me: I am you grateful, very thankful for what you all have done for me in those days.»

"Virginia, we have done only what we though was the right thing to do," Isolde interrupted her with sweetness, "but are you **sure** to have taken the right choice?"

"I am not sure about anything, Miss Zabini, I only know that the people who are supposed to love me, are trying to force me into something I do not wish or like."

Mrs. Weasley leaned toward her daughter, but she was too distant to touch her. "Honey, we just want to protect you…"

"Madam, you cannot hold your daughter under a glass bell," Blaise whispered with a harsh voice: he had understood where Ginny's words were going.

The girl looked at him again, remorseful. "Blaise, it was you yourself who told me that I have to take action myself."

"I know, Virginia, but it doesn't chance the fact that it hurts."

Ginny lowered her eyes pausing silently, then she looked at her mother, her expression was stern. "However, mum, if you really want that I do what you want, I want something in return (a kind of indemnity) and if the Ministry won't allow me that, then I'll come back here to never come back!"

Mrs. Weasley massaged her temples, sighing. "Honey, be reasonable: if the Ministry was to listen to every child's whims…"

"Then it's out of question for me to come back home."

Mrs. Weasley bit her lips, doubtfully. "Ok, ok, but I cannot promise you anything."

With that, the discussion was over, only Miss Isolde asked Ginny if she was really sure of her decision: the girl was more that sure and, as she admitted in a moment in which she was alone with the young Priestess, she didn't have much choice. Blaise stayed by himself till their leaving and he had not changed his mind about going away. "Travelling helps me to see things under a different light," he said to Ginny at the moment of their parting.

Ginny smiled bitterly, and then she embraced him. "Thank you for everything, Blaise."

The wizard embraced her back, and then he placed a kind kiss on her forehead. "I will be waiting for you."

* * *

i **Nonna**: grandmother


End file.
